The World I Live In
by TacoMonsterr
Summary: Tally doesn't remember much after running away at the age of 13. When a stranger by the name of Alfred F. Jones invades her home, a desolate island, she is brought into the world of countries, becoming one herself. She also begins meeting new people, that help her remember things. Things that, she soon realized, she wanted forgotten. Will she be driven mad by her rememberances?
1. Prologue

I've never done this website before... So I don't know much... Heh. I'll try, okay? (:

At first, I was nobody. Just a random commoner with nothing except my family.

Sure, I lived somewhere. But it was so long ago, I just… Can't remember…

Our house wasn't too fancy, but I will always remember it as a home. Though I cannot recall its outside paint color… Jeez, my memory is very foggy…

My mother… She was a nice woman. But I have forgotten what she looked like…

All I can remember is not fitting in. We moved around plenty, but I never found friends. People thought I was… different.

At the age of thirteen, I ran away.

I stayed in London, where the people were calm and it was rather soothing. For a year, I lived there. I made money where I could, and when I finally got enough, I back packed to France. Lived there for a couple days, but I found the people there to be too… Perverted…

I traveled to Germany, Spain, Italy, Turkey, Austria, Hungary, and everywhere else until I reached Russia. I lived there for half a year as well, loving the cold, and visited Belarus and Ukraine. I eventually went to Japan and China, then made my way through lower Asia. I finally reached Europe once again. This time, I went farther up to Poland, Switzerland, Liechtenstein, Lithuania, Estonia, Latvia, Greece, and anywhere else I could find. I went across the ocean again, but instead of going to my birthing country, America, I went to Canada, the third longest staying time at a certain place, and then slowly traveled down again until I reached Mexico. But nowhere was home. I was sailing back over to Australia, when I found land. It was rather mysterious, really. No one had charted this piece of land, an island out in the middle of nowhere. I decided that, after much traveling, and now being seventeen, I would make my home here. And so I have stayed.

My name is Thalassa, but you can call me Tally for short.

I have just started to become a new country.

I hope everyone is welcoming.


	2. Part One: Canada

Part One: Canada

Introducing America, France, Germany, Italy, and Canada.


	3. One

The first (other than me, of course) other person to find me is a man with glasses and a smirk. He has blonde hair and pretty blue eyes. I dislike him at first. It is around the time I have had an ego boost when I can look into a mirror every day and never see a change. If I have counted correctly, I am 26 now. I still look like a sixteen year old. Though confusing, I won't complain.

I have been sitting on a dock I have built on the southern side of the island, swinging my feet in the water, light blue summer dress blowing lightly in the wind. I look at my reflection, my tan features smiling back at me warily. My green eyes are bright and alluring, seducing anyone who came near me with their cat like shape. My blonde hair is back in a loose bun. I love it here; it is summer all the time. Singing a sweet, summery tune that I can't place for the life of me at the moment, I keep swinging my legs, giggling lightly when my feet would graze the warm water. Then I hear the thumping. Someone is walking on the deck.

"Hello?" A voice says politely. "Who are you?"

I whip around quickly to find who is talking to me. A man is standing there, his blonde hair tousled, blue eyes widening at my features behind golden, old fashioned glasses. I narrow my eyes.

"Who are you, more like it." I growl. "What the hell are you doing on my home? Go away."

"M-my name is Alfred." He stutters at first, but regains his composure. "Alfred Jones. I am here to conquer this island."

"Damn, that's tough tits to you. I ain't giving up my only home to some stranger." I stand up. "I mean seriously, you look like the type of guy who just does this shit to people for fun. I ain't standing for it though. Go find somewhere else to invade, I am perfectly happy here." I cross my arms, waiting for his reaction. I'm not leaving without a fight. I like this place.

"Sorry dude, I'm taking this island, to become a part of the United States of Myself." He smirks proudly. "After all, I am the hero."

"Of yourself? You must have gone mad." I smile.

"Nope. My name is Alfred, but I am more known as America." He responds, and I laugh.

"Good one, and I'm Poland."

"No you're not. Poland's a guy. And you have boobs. So who are you? Where do you come from?" He changes the subject, but I waver slightly. Should I give in to the subject change, or keep fighting for my home? Well, hopefully the change of topic might keep his mind off of taking my home.

"I come from nowhere, and everywhere at the same time. I have lived everywhere, but never have I fit in. This is the only place I call home." I shrug indifferently.

"Wow. Damn bro, that sucks. Can I make you a deal?" I squint lightly, trying to find a way to tell if he's this fast paced all the time or if he's nervous. Deciding it's the earlier, I reply.

"What is it?" I ask.

"Well hold on, I need to see if this would work. How old are you, sixteen?"

"Hah, your ten years off. I'm 26." He claps his hands.

"Perfect! You're not aging! Now, you know how you haven't fit in anywhere before? I have an amazing idea! Because I am the hero, after all…" He rambles on like an idiot. So this is what America would look like if it became a person. Great. He was kind of cute, in an American prep boy way. He wore a football jacket that was unbuttoned, which was ridiculous in this weather. He has worn in jeans, and sneakers, and a plain white shirt under his jacket.

"What do you mean, you're America?" I ask him curiously.

"I am America! My glasses are Texas and my hair is Nantucket!" He states proudly. "It's just who I am, just as you're… whoever you are. Now, how about I take you under my wing as a country; get you all nice and grown up, right? It would be so totally awesome! I would be like your big brother! What do you say? Deal, right?"

"Um… Have you know, I am human. Not a country or anything." I answer doubtfully.

"Don't worry! With me as your leader, nothing can go wrong!" I sigh, and he pats me on the back.

"Ah, what the hell, let's do this." I say, and he cheers.

"Yeah! This will be awesome! What do you want to be called?"

"…Thalassa?" I ask, and he nods.

"Awesome! Now, what will your human name be?"

"I… I remember my mother calling me… Tally…"

"Tally Jones it is! Now come on, we have some preparing to do!" He drags me away, and I can't help but wonder what I have gotten myself into.

Short chapters, man. I should combine two chapters into one chapter, da? ^J^


	4. Two

We talk for a while, finding out more about each other. I learn that Britain is his older brother, Canada his twin, and to stay away from France unless I wanted to get molested. I tell him about how I can't remember much before I was thirteen, and how I was born in America, but it isn't my home.

"Wait… Really?" He asks, and I nod. He scratches his head. "Damn, I want to be welcoming to everyone, but you're an exception, aren't you?" I laugh.

"Yeah. This island is my home. I have relatives that live in, well, you. I don't know who they are though, or where, for that matter." I smile.

"How can you smile? That's terrible, dude! I wouldn't be able to live without anyone of my friends! They're like my family…" He sighs, but brightens up quickly. "Well, all of us will be your family!" I blush and shake my head.

"No… I am kind of regretting this decision…" I mumble, but he shakes his head fiercely, grabbing my small hands with his strong, calloused ones.

"No! I promise you, you won't regret this! I swear, they all will like you!" He answers me strongly. I sigh, looking down.

"But… it's such a big change for me. How will it work?"

"Well, you have to get people to come live here. I know! Come to America! We'll recruit people to come live here, and they'll love it and tell their friends!" I raise an eyebrow.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm America! Of course I'm sure!"

"Well, alright…"

"Do you know how to make hamburgers? I need a cheeseburger so badly it's going to kill me!" I nod.

"I like them too. I'll go make some." Thankfully, there were random cows here, so I got milk and cheese and meat from them. I am always sad to kill them, but I need beef. Going into my shack I had crafted, I went down into the basement, where it was coolest, and went to the cooler. It holds all my freezable items that need to be kept cool. And there it is. The beef is freshly ground, and I mold it into patties quickly. The buns are homemade, nice and crunchy. I chop some lettuce and tomatoes from the garden, not having pickles or mayonnaise or ketchup or mustard.

"America!" I call out. I hear thumping as he comes downstairs.

"Yeah?" He answers as soon as he arrives at the bottom.

"It's done, but I hope you brought your own ketchup and mustard and stuff." I tell him.

"Of course I did! I love burgers!" I look at him weirdly, but shrug my shoulders.

We sit down, and start fashioning our burgers. I ask if I could use his condiments, which he says yes. His reaction when he bites into the food is hilarious.

"Holy crap! You're a good cook! As good as Italy!" He quickly takes another bite, and I grin, eating my burger. I don't know who this Italy is, but if he is a good cook, then I guess that's a compliment. After dinner, I show him to his room, which has a hammock, a desk, and a window overlooking his boat on the dock.

"Let me know if you need anything." I volunteer, turning around to go to my room. He grabs my arm, spinning me back around. He smiles.

"Even though I wanted this place to my own, I'm kind of glad that you were here. And I wanted to thank you."

"For what?" I ask, confused.

"For dinner, for being so hospitable, for letting me stay and not kicking me off… And for this." He quickly presses his lips against mine, and pulls away before I can respond. "Goodnight, Thalassa. See you tomorrow, bright and early to leave. Okay?" I can't say anything so I just nod. He smiles again, and shuts the door. I stand staring at the door to the guest room for a few minutes, then finally walk away.

_ That was confusing._

_ But I kind of liked it._

When I get to my room, I get onto my hammock and lay there, recalling the events from today. Finally, I drift off right when the moon comes out.


	5. Three

"Tally! Wake up! It's eight!" Someone is shouting. I shoot up, and out of pure reaction to being alone for so long, I kick his ass. He is leaning over me, and I lean up quickly, wrapping my arm around his neck and kicking him in the stomach. He whips around, flinging me onto the floor before getting on top of me, holding my arms down.

"Good morning to you too, Thalassa." He mutters, loosening his grasp on my hands. Still not recognizing him, and pure girl instincts kicking in, I do the only thing I can.

I pull his hair. There is one part specifically. It sticks out randomly, not obeying the laws of physics. I grab it.

"Wait, Tally, don't!" He shouts, but I do it.

I yank as hard as I can.

His lips are on mine instantly. They are soft, and warm, and a little chapped. As quick as they came, they're gone. He stands up quickly and backs away, sliding down the wall when he found it, blushing like an innocent girl. I stand up, finally recognizing him as America.

"What the hell? All I did was pull your hair!" I shout angrily, walking towards him._ Was that a turn on for him or something?_

"Okay, I need to tell you something." He sighs, and I sit down next to him. "It's me, Canada, Italy, Romano, and Austria. We all have these little… strands of awkward hair. For some reason, when it's touched at all, we get… um… turned on." I raise my eyebrows, not believing him. "You don't believe me? Alright. Pull it again." I scoot a little closer, reaching up to poke it lightly. He twitches at the contact. "Hurry up." He mutters. I grab it quickly, pulling it lightly. His eyes darken. I study his reaction, then pulled a little harder. He groans, and grabs my face, starting to pull me closer. I let go, arms up in surrender.

"Okay, okay. I get it. Now stop. Let's go." I kick him out and pack quickly after he leaves, getting most of my clothes, not knowing how long I'll be gone.

I zip up the backpack, and, humming the same tune from yesterday, dress quickly. A pair of shorts, a black and white striped top, and black sneakers. I meet up outside with America, who is considerably more controlled around me now. I shrug, and get onto the boat. Looking at the island, the only place I'll ever know as home, I sigh.

"I'm gonna miss this place, America." He comes up beside me.

"I know how you feel. A while back, I had to leave Britain to come to where – and who – I am today. And you are going to return! Don't worry." He smiles, and snaps his fingers.

"Oh! If you're going to be a country, you need a flag! We'll work on one while we're on our way back to my place." I nod, and he gives me a short tour of the boat. Downstairs there are two bedrooms in case we take longer than a day, and a bathroom.  
That's pretty much it.

I wave goodbye to my homeland, but now am worried that America – The place - will be stressful.


	6. Four

When we finally get settled off, America is piloting the boat, while I force him to give me a turn in a few hours. I sit with him and talk, mostly about what it was like for him to separate from Britain.

"You see, I care for Britain. He is my bro." America starts. "I was very little when he found me, barely big enough to care for myself. He took me in, after arguing with France about who would get me. He would often sing me to sleep and tell me stories about his pirate days-"

"Pirate days?" I question. He nods.

"Yes, he used to be a pirate. Funny, considering now he's a well mannered old man. He doesn't look old, but he is. Twice my age, and now I'm…" He counts with his fingers. "Well, I am 236, but how old do I look?"

"You look 22. Maybe 23." I answer.

"Well yeah, and if he's twice my age, he's 472! Ancient!" He laughs, pulling out a wallet. Flipping it open, I see a picture he points out to me.

America is much younger, only looking about twelve. He's sitting with a man who has dark blonde hair, and his eyes are vividly green, the color of grass. Oh, and he has thick eyebrows. They aren't a unibrow, but they're decently thick. Not old man thick (He didn't look old at all, in fact) but you get the idea. They are thicker than average. Both of them are sitting on a couch, the man sitting up properly and neat, while America is slouching.

"See? This was him before he left me to run myself. I was a little tyke then, but you should have seen his face when he came back, looking for a little boy, when instead he found me! I had grown taller, taller than him! He only goes to my nose now. He went to my eyes then. But he forgot…" America trails off, eyes going unfocused. I understand why he wouldn't finish. When he got older, Britain forgot that he wasn't a kid anymore, and didn't need help running himself. Britain kept trying to control America, when America was able to do things himself.

"The Revolutionary War…" I whisper. America nods.

"Yeah, I just couldn't take it anymore! He kept trying to bind me tighter and tighter to his rules, when finally I just said 'Fuck it! I quit!' Right? Don't you hate overbearing parents? That's what he was like." He sighs. "I still love him… But he just wouldn't let me take care of myself. I lost his trust after that. I mean sure, he'll help me if I need him, but he… He keeps back. He hasn't been the same since then. His face when I fought against him… It nearly broke me. But I stayed strong, because I'm America. I wouldn't be able to be the hero if I was run by someone else!" I nod in understanding, and he glances at me.

"If I ever get too over protective of you, just… Let me know, okay? I know how it feels, and if you feel too controlled, just say the words and I'll ease up. Alright?" I nod, and he smiles. "Good. Now how about we work on that flag."

"But how? You have to drive, don't you? And I haven't gotten a turn yet!" I pout, and he laughs.

"Your turn will be tomorrow, okay? This trip will take two days. And besides, I have Tony!" He explains, although I'm confused on whom Tony is. "Tony! Where the hell are you, asshole?" America calls out. And then I see 'him'. Tony is a little gray alien. Like, legit alien. Weird head, big black eyes. Holy fuck.

"Sup bitch?" America says. "Where the fuck have you been hiding, bro?" Tony answers with strange bleep bloops. America laughs. "Good one dude, but don't do that type of shit tonight, okay? We have a guest." Tony turns to look at me, and I gulp. His eyes… So creepy…

"Say 'hi', Thalassa!" America whispers.

"H-hi, Tony." Tony smiles and waves, knowing I can't understand him. He speaks his weird language again, and America laughs.

"Yeah Tony, she is pretty, huh? Just like her Island! You should of came out and explored or something." He says, and I blush. America continues. "So, can you drive for a while? I need to help Thalassa make her flag." Tony nods, and takes Americas place at the wheel. America comes up to me, and whispers in my ear. "Tony is the coolest dude you'll ever meet. The best wing man in the universe, I swear." I laugh, and he leads me to the bedroom I will be using. There's a small little desk, and he brings out a notebook.

"Okay, so, what are we gonna do?" I ask.

"Well, tell me about yourself. That usually leads to a breakthrough. And tell me about your Island."

"Well," I start, "the island is really two Islands. There's a little current stream separating them from each other. On the northern part, is where you landed. The trees there are a little less tropical, with apples and pears and cherries. It's where I find my cows and chickens. The bottom, where you found me, is more tropical, with bananas, oranges, kiwis, and things like that. It has frogs, and other animals. I love animals. My favorite colors are green, yellow, and blue. But turquoise, not that dark bullshit." I ramble, and when I'm done, he shows me his idea.

The flag is separated diagonally by a 'white' stripe, the top half labeled 'green', the bottom 'blue'. There is a circle of 'yellow' on each one.

"You see, the colors suit your personality and land very accurately." He states smartly. "Blue represents freedom, peace, prosperity, and patriotism. You have all those things. Green is agriculture or fertility, which you also have. Yellow is the sun and wealth. You have both of those things. And white is purity and innocence." I blush at that, revealing that it was true. "See? It works perfectly! You like it, right?" I nod quickly, excited that this was all happening.

I look at the time. Jeez, it was nine!  
"Uh, America…" He glances at me. "It's nine."

"Wow, the day went by fast!" He stands up. "Goodnight, Tally. Sweet dreams!" He walks to his room, and I hear the door shutting. I quickly change into a night gown, and fall onto the bed, the boat rocking me to sleep.


	7. Five

_ -I'm running._

_ I don't know what from._

_ It's chasing me, snapping twigs and branches with its loud thumping footsteps._

_ It only makes me run faster._

_ I can't turn and look around, I have to watch where I'm going, or I'll surely get killed by… Whatever it is. I'm gasping, and slowing down. It's growling on my neck, so close I can smell the horrible stench leaking from its mouth. I sprint ahead of it, hiding quickly in the darkness of a tree. I cover my mouth, to lessen the sound of my breathing._

_ "Tally… Where are you…?" I hear in a deep, low rumble. Holy fucking penis. Tears of fear well into my eyes._

_ "Tally?" the voice changes, to one I scarcely recognize as my mother's voice._

_ "…Mom?" I call out._

_ "Oh, Tally! I've missed you so! Come out here, let me see you!" I get up, and step out of the darkness, letting the moon light me up. A small shadow comes near me, and I feel arms wrapping around me._

_ "Tally! I've missed you! You should have came and visit me. But it's okay now, I have you here-" She continues on with the calming, encouraging words. I lean into the shadow, closing my eyes._

_ "Tally, it's been so long! I just can't wait to eat up your bones!" The voice changes back to the horrific, terrifying growl of the seething monster. The shadow grows larger, and I gasp right when it's about to eat me-_

I fling up in the bed, cold sweat soaking my body. My hair is matted to my head, and I'm breathing heavily. Shuddering, I remember the horrid dream.

"That's right. It was just a dream." I lay back down, but cannot go back to sleep. After tossing and turning for nearly half an hour, I check a clock. It's only 2! Damn it. I get up, sighing, and stumble to Americas' room. He's passed out in a dazed mess. While his legs are together, his arms are up like he's an airplane. I smile at the adorableness. Well, I'll wake up before him, and he'll never know I slept with him. Easy. I slowly climb into his bed, careful not to wake him up. Once completely settled into the bed, I snuggle into his broad chest, one hand on his chest and the other covering my stomach. He stirs, and I freeze. Will he wake up? He grunts sleepily.

"B-Britain? Is that you?" He mutters sleepily. Before I could respond, He groans. "I told you, the scary dreams are not real. But if you really want to sleep with me, fine. I don't care." He immediately wraps an arm around my waist. I sigh in relief, closing my eyes. Feeling surrounded by comfort, I fall asleep quickly, muttering a quiet, 'Goodnight, big brother.'

He is my only family member for now.


	8. Six

"Ugh," I hear through my blackened coma, "What the- Thalassa?" The voice sounds loose, and hazy. The person has a damn sexy voice.

"Hush, sexy voice," I murmur, "I'm trying to sleep." I hear a throaty laugh.

"My voice is sexy? Now, Tally, you shouldn't say stuff like that to your brother. I'm not into that kind of stuff." My eyes snap open, unfocused. They come in contact with a plain white wife beater.

"Now, Tally, why are you sleeping with me, in my bed?" He jokes. I grumble, irritated that I didn't follow through with my plan.

"I had a bad dream…" I reply groggily. "There was a monster, and he was chasing me…" America rubs my back soothingly.

"That sounds like something Britain would dream about…" I remember last night, when he muttered about how Britain would come sleep with him after a scary dream. Weird, considering Britain was the older of the two. America continues. "…But that's all it is. A dream. It's not real. Though Britain would tell me otherwise." We chuckle, and finally get up. I am in a short purple nightgown, and America is in a white wife beater and boxers. I blush at the thought of just sleeping with him in our undergarments. A smell wafts through my nose. It's sweet, and sugary, and has another scent, of something creamy. I know the smells instantly. And it wakes me right up.

"Hurry up America! There's Froot Loops up there!" He perks up, widening his eyes at me.

"How'd you know?" He asks.

"I can smell it." I reply. He looks at me weirdly.

"Strong senses you have there."

"Yeah." We both walk upstairs, to the open area on the top of the boat. Tony is sitting at the wheel, waiting for us to join him. I smile, and sit on a bench next to him. America sits next to me, and Tony hands us the essentials. Soon enough we have eaten breakfast, which is amazing, and we have changed. I'm now wearing a simple green dress, making me seem tanner and accenting my eyes. My hair is free flowing, blowing like a big mop of mess. I sigh happily, pushing it out of my face. I love it like this. Glancing overboard, I look around. The water is clear, rippling where the boat has pushed through it. The sky has a few clouds. Seagulls are in the air. Suddenly, I hear a shout of 'There it is!' just as a shore comes into view. In a few minutes, I would be in America again. I don't know how to feel. I guess I'm excited, but…

"Hey Thalassa?" America asks me.

"What?" I reply.

"…What are you thinking?"

"How weird it will be to be back into America, again, and how I'm excited. Did I ever tell you about my journeys around the world?" He shakes his head no. I smile, as the land comes closer.

"Well, there was this one time In Belgium…" I start. I have started to explain how the marketplace was selling something absolutely intriguing, but I never finish. We reach the shore.

'Welcome home.' I say in my head. But in reality, this is not my home. I already miss my Thalassa.


	9. Seven

"Well," He says, "We're almost there." America has a house in every state, and all the states are also people, which is weird. We're in southern California, more specifically San Diego, and he has a suburban house here. We've been driving since we hit Malibu, and my butt has fallen asleep. I wiggle, trying to wake it up, which makes him laugh.

"We're almost there, I swear. Then you can wake up your body to your hearts' content." I laugh, and even Tony, who is sitting in the back seat of the car, is making a sound that sounds like laughter. The car is a dark green, old school Jeep. It's convertible, and has dents on the sides. Judging by Americas' face when we found the car where he parked it when he left, he loves this car. We finally turn down a road with houses on it, and go to the most ancient, oldest looking house I have ever seen. We park in the driveway, and I glance at him, raising an eyebrow.

"This was one of the first houses in San Diego. Of course I live in an old house." I nod in understanding. We get out, getting our shit from the back. Tony disappears. "Oh yeah," America spoke, noticing how I am staring at where Tony had just been, "Tony has superpowers. It's really cool, right?" I nod, still not speaking out of shock. I hear a sound behind me as the door clicked open, and Tony is standing there. I thank him and step inside.

There is garbage here and there, but aside from that, it's a bachelor's pad. When I walk in, there are two hallways to the sides, and in front of me are stairs. I find the house personally nice. The entry room is wooden floored, as are the stairs and the room to the left. Going into the left room, there's a dining room and kitchen. I go to the right afterwards to find a green carpeted room with a brown couch, and a huge television. Below it are tons of different game consoles, from the very first Nintendo Sega to a Playstation 3. There is also a closed door, but I'll figure that out later, because America just walked in.

"Guest room is upstairs, unless you want to sleep with me again." He wriggles his eyebrows, and I stick my tongue out at him. "In that case, my room is also upstairs. Tony sleeps in the basement, where no one can find him. He is an alien, after all." I go up the stairs to see a narrow hallway with three doors. One to the left, one to the right, and one at the end. "To the right!" He calls up the stairs, and I go into that door. The door is a push-from-the-outside type of door. The room has a slanted roof, due to the fact it is the top floor in the house, and the window looks over the house next door. There's a bed at the far end of the wall where the roof is highest, and a small closet where all of my stuff can fit easily into. I unpack with the complementary hangers in the room, and sit on the bed, admiring the room. It has carpet, but this time it's light blue. The rest of the room is white, and there is a desk on the other side of the door with nothing on it. This room is empty.

"Finally," I hear a sigh of relief, and springs creaking as America flop onto his bed, "I'm finally home, on my beautiful bed! Gah!" I laugh, but am alerted when I hear loud banging and thumping. Jumping up, I run to his room to see someone pinning him down on the bed.

"Where is he!?" The man shouts in a musty accent I can't place, "Where the fuck is Italy!?"

"Dude… I don't know…" America tries to shout at the man, but it comes out in pants and whispers, because the man has blocked off his throat, choking America.

"Damn it," I mutter under my breath. I'm going to have to save America. Sneaking up behind the very muscular man, who, by the way, is dressed in green army clothing, which could only mean he's prepared for anything physical, I crouch down by the bed posts, and after counting to three, leap to my death.

I tackle the mystery man, making him shout in surprise as I fling him to the ground. I'm on top of him, now pinning him down as America gains his breath back. The man has blonde hair combed back, and a scar under his right eye. His eyes… they're such a miraculous baby blue color, I gasp at them. He looks dumbstruck at my features too. I harden my gaze bravely, knowing that this man could kill me instantly.

"Who are you, and why were you hurting America?" I whisper with seething rage.

"U-uh…" I hear him stutter with a gaping mouth, his eyes so bright… so pretty…

"I am Germany, and have a belief that America has stolen my friend Italy. But that's not the real question." He answers roughly, and flips me around, now that I am off guard. He's now on top of me, pinning down my hands and leaning closer. "The question is, who are you?" That's what accent it was; he is German. For some reason, I am very tempted to kiss him right now. I don't even know why. At this proximity, I am completely vulnerable.

"My name is Thalassa. I have been taking up America's time for the past week, so I would know if he kidnapped someone. Fuck you, and your hotness." I bite my lip in embarrassment when I realize that I said the last sentence aloud. He looks confused once again, pulling away slightly. I strike then, kicking him in the face and scrambling out from under him. I back up to the bed, panting heavily from adrenaline. I want to kick his ass so badly… Almost as much as I want to make out with him.

"Have you asked France?" America asks coolly to Germany, finally speaking up. If he noticed the weird sexual tension on my face, he didn't let on. Germany sighs, shaking his head.

"You're right. I apologize. I should have assumed... You know how Italy is, running around, not fighting worth shit. He probably went willingly with France… After all, they are brothers…" He pinches the bridge of his nose, inhaling sharply. "I will be leaving now. Goodbye America. Thalassa-"

"Tally-" I correct.

"Hey Germany, can you do me a favor?" Germany looks at America, who gives a pointed glance at me, then makes a walking finger motion. Germany looks at me for a moment, then looks back at America. "…Why should I?" Germany asks America, leaving me in the dust about what they're talking of. America makes a quick hand gesture that looked like he was shaking an invisible shake weight, blushing when I look at him confusedly. Germany nods.

"…Fine. But only because I know how you feel. Italy visits all the time, and I can never… Yeah. Besides, I need help finding Italy, and she obviously knows what she's doing." He turns to me. I'm frowning. "Come on, Rapunzel. You're coming with me to Europe."

I shake my head, finally realizing what they were doing. They were planning to have me go away, because America didn't want to jerk off while I was here. Ew.

"No! I just got here! I'm sorry about your sexual needs, America, but I kind of want to stay here. I need to get people to come live on the Island if I want to become a country, right?"

"Country?" Germany asks, turning towards America, who pays no attention to him.

"You can get people from Europe. I will probably make some people go out to the island to live there anyways while you're gone."

"I want to look around, and explore too!" I come up with another excuse. He shakes his head.

"Look at yourself! You're going to be a country soon enough! You've got all the time in the world! It will only be for until you find Italy. On my mothers' life." I don't want to say the real reasons of why I want to stay, which are to be with America (I trust him around me) and not be near Germany (I don't trust myself around him), which means…

Time to go pack up again.

"Wait…" Germany says, "How is she going to become a country? She looks like nothing but a measly sixteen year old!"

"I'm twenty six. And don't make me kick your ass again," I huff.

"You caught me off guard." He says impassively. "If I had known America had a lady friend, I would have just kidnapped you and been done with it. And you shouldn't lie. You cannot possibly be twenty six."

"Unless she's a newborn country, like I was." America cut in.

"I'm not his lady friend! Well… I am his friend. But not like that!" I reply, ignoring America. Germany gives me a wry grin.

"'Course you aren't." I scoff at his sarcastic reply. "And if you are a new country… Where at?"

"Pacific ocean. Between here and Australia. I was heading my way back over there when I was seventeen, to visit some old friends, and found the Island." I retort.

"So you come from Australia?" He asks smugly. I step closer to him.

"No." I whisper harshly, "I come from everywhere and nowhere at all. I ran away when I was thirteen. I have traveled around the world, searching for a home, somewhere I fit in. Nowhere. Then I hit the island, and have been there since a few days ago, when America tried to come over and take my home. Long story short, he's my brother, and my only close friend at the moment. Because of human inflicts, and the fact I have no one else to protect," I pause for dramatic effect, "If you harm a single hair on his body ever again, I will personally go over to you, and kill you. Chop you up into little bits, and feed them to dogs. Better yet- What's your favorite type of dog?" I ask him.

"… A German Shepherd, of course…?" He answers slowly.

"I will get you a puppy." His face contorts with confusion. "It will be an adorable German Shepherd, with black fur as dark as Japans hair, and big old eyes, the exact color of Italy's." I don't know the color of Italy's eyes, but it certainly did the trick. His eyes soften, remembering the colors. I know that he, Italy, and Japan are all friends. "I will give the puppy to you. What will you name it?"

"Epani." He whispers. I nod.

"You will feed it twice a day, until it grows big and strong. You will teach it to hunt, and fight, but be a lovable companion. Just like you." He smiles at that. "And right when you reach the point when your love will grow no further for the dog, he'll go missing. You'll search everywhere, but to no avail." His eyes grow big, full of worry for the imaginary dog. "A few days later, after hearing that the animal I had given to you has disappeared, I will make you dinner, knowing that you're so full of worry you won't be able to make food yourself without getting lost in your thoughts and burning the food." He nods, agreeing completely that he would indeed do that. "It will be your favorite meal! Liverwurst, right?" He nods again. "Liverwurst, and potatoes! You'll love the meal, telling me it was delicious, and you'll thank me. And you know what?" I ask him.

"What?" He mumbles.

I drop my voice to a whisper, making him move closer to me. "All I'd do is smile and ask, _'Did you know that Liverwurst tastes exactly like a roasted dog would?_'" He jumps back, completely and utterly terrified. I smile wickedly at him.

"Moral of the story? Never fucking mess with people I'm close to." I smile. He takes a shuddering breath.

"That… Was brutal… Although you are the scariest person I have ever met," His voice drops to a whisper, saying something about 'scarier than Russia', then going back to his original voice, "you have gained my respect. If you ever get into a war or anything, call me. I'll be there in seconds."

I grin at the fact that no matter how badly I try, nobody will ever dislike me.

"Well," I sigh, looking towards America who is staring at me, mouth agape from the fake story, cheeks bright red because the story pretty much said that America is my only friend and I care for him fiercely, "I better start packing back up again."

"Yeah, and hurry. Who knows what France is doing to Italy!" Germany says angrily.

I noticed two things in that sentence that popped out to me.

When he's angry, his accent pops out, and makes him sound hotter.

And he cares for Italy as much as I care for America.


	10. Eight

I'm all packed up, nice and neat. I sigh, feeling exhausted. That was horrible. I don't even get to stay a day! What was in that room… I'll never know.

A knock sounds on my door. Opening it, I find Germany. He's been pretty nice. I guess. He is rather non emotional, and is a little too strict, and is a bit of a tight wad. But he's polite and kind, and has weird quirks. He talks to inanimate objects, preferably sticks. It was weird, but that's alright. Everyone is a little crazy in my world.

"Um… Are you packed? I want to leave as soon as possible, for Italy's sake." I say yes and he tells me to put it in America's trunk. He will drop us off at the airport. This is going to be great. At least I like flying.

We all get into the car. America and Germany in the front, myself in the back. Tony is left to keep watch of the house.

The drive is quick and painless, like ripping off a band aid. No one talks in the car, all of our eyes kept ahead on the road. When we get there, I am crying.

I don't know why I'm crying. Maybe it's because I miss my home. Maybe it's because before I got to Thalassa, I didn't have a home. Maybe it's because I never had any real friends. But it's probably because I am going to miss America.

He hugs me, and wipes away my tears. "It's okay," He whispers into my ear, "You'll be fine. I'll try to call you every day, and you'll make more friends. I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you too." He kisses my forehead, and gets my stuff out of the trunk for me. It's just one big suitcase, the same one I left Thalassa with.

"Come on," Germany says roughly. I assume he's not one for emotional goodbyes, "We need to hurry before Italy is taken over. France can be such a pain in the ass. Literally." I blush at the sexual meaning, and begin walking with him. Halfway across the parking lot, I turn around to look back at America. He's leaning against the car, hands in his pockets. I wave slightly, just lifting my hand. He smiles, and makes a heart with his hands, then points at me. I smile too, lifting my hands to repeat the gesture, adding a peace sign afterwards. I turn back around and catch up to Germany. I don't look back afterwards.

I'll miss my brother.

When we get inside the airport, it is rather packed. A lot of people must be taking the plane. We buy one trip tickets (He buys mine for me, saying that it's only fair for the fact that I beat him at wrestling), and get on the plane. The entire time he is either silent, or trying to make small talk.

"What's your real name?" I ask. He looks at me like I'm crazy.

"I-I mean, if that's okay to ask. America told me his name before his country." I apologize, and he shakes his head.

"Oh, no, it's alright. My name is Ludwig Beilschmidt. I'd much prefer to be called Germany though." I nod.

"Understandable." I reply.

"What's your name?" He asks.

"Tally Jones, but more known as Thalassa. It's a rather plain name, but the first name was mine when I would travel. I can't remember my last name, and America gave me his."

"You travel?"

"I did, yes. When I ran away, I searched the world for somewhere I could belong. I even went to your country." He widens his eyes in surprise.

"…Really?" He says, astounded. Why would he be so surprised?

"Of course I did! I like your German chocolate cake, and your building structures, and I like your music. So many known people came from your land. Mozart, Beethoven, Bach… I like to play music. When I was younger, I remember my mother teaching me Fur Elise… We had such a lovely brown piano…"

_-Suddenly, I remember my house. Its walls were once white, but the house was aged, which gave the paint a yellowed look. The carpet was a gray blue, and the piano sat in a corner. It was an upright piano, and we had flowers on the top of it all the time. I recalled going to the piano straight after dinner, playing the same song – Fur Elise - over and over again, until I could play it with my eyes closed. My fingers were so used to the movement, that sometimes if I was just thinking about it, they would start playing it on something. My lap, the table, a wall-_

"Thalassa?" A voice knocked me out of my reverie.

"…Huh?" I mutter dazedly.

"You… We're almost there." He was stumbling and blushing. What had happened?

"What did I miss?" I ask, knowing something was up.

"Nothing! I'm just surprised… No one really knows who those composers are anymore, and I'm rather surprised that you visited my country… Even before I knew you." I smile.

"Well, I visited everywhere! I have told America already," I say, buckling up for the de-escalation, "But there was this one time in Belgium…"


	11. Nine

Needless to say, the French airport was confusing. Although I knew French fluently, the French culture was still as perverted as I can remember it. Kissing everywhere, hugging, whispering sweet nothings into each others' ears… I already felt alone. Shrugging off the negative feeling, I turn to see Germany looking the same way I felt.

After we had gotten our luggage and rented a car (With my help. Germany doesn't know a lick of French), I ask him the question that has been in my mind since I saw his expression at the airport. We are driving to Frances house, him controlling the car and myself in the passenger seat.

"Do you have a girlfriend?" I ask him. I haven't seen him with anybody, or heard him talk about a special someone, but I had to make sure.

"No! Why would you ask?" He replies.

"Well, it's just that you're really handsome, and stuff… I can't really see why you wouldn't. Unless you swing the other way. You know, ate too much fruit salad? Is that why you talk about Italy so much? But then again, I can see why girls would be intimidated by you. 'Cause you're really hot and they might feel they're out of your league-" He covered my mouth with one hand.

"Shut. Up. I swear, you're like a female Italy. Good god." He muttered harshly. I blush scarlet. He moves his hand.

"S-sorry. I know I can be a bit of a bother. I'll just… Shut up now…" I mumble quietly, looking out the window. A few moments pass, and I hear a sigh.

"I… I'm sorry." Germany forces out. "You're just trying to be nice, and I get annoyed easily… Italy and Japan say I need to work on that…"

"No! It's fine! You don't have to apologize! It was my fault! I should be saying sorry!" He glances over at my loud outburst. "I-I mean…" I stammer.

And he starts laughing. It's loud and hearty, filling up the car. I can't help it. I laugh too. People driving by must think we're completely insane, but we barely notice anyone else. Once we have finally gotten a hold of ourselves, he answers my questions.

"No, I don't have a girlfriend. No, I'm not gay. I don't have a crush on Italy, though he is kind of girly… and I just don't have time for a girl. I'm too busy with other things."

"If you could have a girl, who would it be?" I ask.

"As a child, before everything happened, I lived with Austria, under the name of Holy Roman Empire." He starts. "I changed my name after the French revolutionary wars, so that no one would try and hurt me afterwards. Anyways, there was a housemaid my age that had been captured by Austria, but she didn't feel captured. She would sing while she cleaned, and would draw, and loved to listen to Austria play the piano. This was back when Austria was married to Hungary, mind you. I would listen to her hum and sing, and she would listen to me read to her and help me try and draw."

"A childhood sweetheart?" I question, to which he nods.

"One day, I finally planned to leave. To grow up into the man I am today. I was about to set off, when she ran out into the street, begging me not to go. Apparently, Hungary had known that she liked me, and told her that I was leaving that day. I got off of my horse, and walked up to her. Her brown red hair was a mess, always cut like a guys to not get in the way of her cleaning, but her brown eyes were determined. She was crying too. I didn't know what to do. I told her that I had to go. She said that if she couldn't stop me, I'd have to take her broom. To remember her."

"Why a broom?" I asked confusedly.

"Because that was the only memorabilia I had of her. Whenever I saw her, she had that broom. I still have it today. She gave me it, and we kissed. I told her that I had liked her for a while, and she said that she did too. I left, promising that after the war, I would see her again. I never did."

"What was her name?"

"She said it was Italia. But it wasn't Italy. Italy's a guy. There couldn't have been a sex change, because everyone would have heard of it. Gossip, you know how it is. I have gone back to Austria many times, but never saw her."

"Secret twin sister or something?" I guess.

"Yeah… Something." He murmured. "If I were ever to have a girl, I would have her." The tone in his voice was different than usual. His voice was usually powerful, strong. But this… This was weak, clumsy, and unsure. This was the voice of a man in love.

_If a man ever loves me,_ I decided in my head, _I will make sure he never has to feel like this._

After that moment, we don't talk until we reach the house. It's in a seemingly sweet, peaceful neighborhood. The house is a light blue, with white on the door and around the windows. There are flowers, and it resembles an old woman's house. I am admiring the pretty house, when I hear a yell.

"Please don't I don't want to die I want to live please I have family in Paris I'm a virgin that's where they get Virgin Oil spare me please I'll do anything I don't want to die!" The voice shouts from inside the house, saying everything really quickly and lengthening out the last 'die'. The voice cries out again in sobs, "GERMANY!" They used all of the air they could fit into their lungs and screamed his name until their throat died out. Germany bolts inside the house, kicking the door open.

"Italy! Where are you!" Germany barely gets to look around before he's tackled to the ground by some guy. He's not very distinguishable to be someone important, and realize quickly that he must be working for this 'France' guy. After Germany and the other man wrestle for a while, Germany comes out of the brawl as the loser, obviously shown by the rope he's bound by. I know that if I go in there like he did, then I will surely have the same fate. The guy that bound him up must be really strong to be able to beat Germany.

America told me about all of the main countries… Now all I need is to remember what he said about France…

_'Don't go near France unless you want to get molested.'_

I know what I have to do.

Going back to the car, I open up my bag to find the cutest outfit I had. Changing quickly, I put on a pair of faded booty shorts, and a striped pink, white, and yellow tank top. Changing my flip flops into a pair of white flats, I deem myself ready for this. After some lip gloss and self esteem boosting, I step into the home.

"Bonjour? Tout est-il bon? J'ai entendu des bruits forts ..." I ask if everything is okay, having heard noises. A man is in front of me instantly. The inside of the house is colored light blue, somehow matching this man's eyes. The floor is a dark wood, along with other wooden appliances in the home. His wavy blonde hair goes to the nape of his neck, and is an organized mess, his hair line parted to the left. His eyes are like mine, cat shaped and alluring. His lips, oh his lips… They are quirked upwards in a charmed smile. He drank me in like a glass of water, easily towering over me. Most of the guys I have met so far are tall, and he is one of them. I see in his eyes that I am desired; that if he plays his cards right, I would become his. I know instantly who he is.

France.

"Bonjour, Mademoiselle. Comment tu t'appelles?" He asks my name.

"Je m'appelle Thalassa. Quel est ton nom?" I give mine, and ask for his while suggestively twirling my hair around a finger. He bows, giving his hand for me to place mine into.

"Je m'appelle Francis Bonnefoy. Un plaisir de vous rencontrer, douce Mademoiselle." His name is Francis, and he is pleased to meet me. I put my hand in his, to which he kisses it. Such a charmer, I must give him points for that.

"Vous êtes connu comme la France ainsi?" I ask innocently, and he gasps, surprised. I mean, it's not every day when someone knows your alternate ego, him as France. And he still thinks I'm just some commoner! My days in that life are over.

"Oui, je suis aussi la France." He agrees that he is France. I smile and step closer. Lust washes over his eyes, making me resist the urge to wrinkle my nose. I get close enough so that our chests are almost touching, and stand on my tip toes to reach around his neck. His hands automatically go onto my hips. I lean up to his ear, blowing on it lightly. He groans, anxious at my teasing. He actually thinks he's going to get some. I whisper very softly in his ear.

"I am sorry, France. I'll explain later, maybe." I said it quickly and quietly, so no surprise would make him draw back. Maybe he doesn't even know English. French people are rather prideful about their country. Right after I speak, I knee him in the stomach. He falls, gasping in surprise, but different from when he found out that I knew about him. I whip out my hand cuffs and lock one hand on them, drag him over to the stairs, thread the unhooked cuff through the side railing on the stairs, and finally lock it around his other wrist. The ending product was him with his hands cuffed through a stair railing, leaving him locked there.

"Mademoiselle, what are you doing?" He asks in a rough French accent. So he does speak English. His accent is hot too. Jesus, what's with all of these boys and their incredibly hot ass accents?

"I am sorry, France, but I am here with Germany. Don't try and call out. The only reason I am here with Germany is because I scared the fucking shit out of him. Now, where did you put Germany and Italy?" I whisper out to him. He opens his mouth to call for help, but I kick him in the face. Roundhouse. He spits out blood. "Strike one." I count.

"I-I don't have Italy, but I have Germany." He tries, and I slap him in the face.

"Strike two. You don't want me to get to strike three."

"In the basement." He whispers. I thank him, blood from his lips on mine. I know the customaries in France, and kissing is hello and goodbye. Going downstairs, I find a door unlocked. I push it open. There's one guy down here, and I take him down quietly and easily. Pushing on a pressure point in his neck, he passes out, collapsing to the floor. I look around the room, and finally see Germany. He's sitting in a corner on a wooden chair. He's tied to it, and his head is bobbed down in defeat. I walk up to him and poke his face. He jolts up and turns to me. His mouth is bound. I wave and he grunts. I finally untie him. He smiles and thanks me.

"No problem," I whisper, afraid that more people will come, "It's what friends do, right?" His eyes widen, and he smiles happily. Then there's muffled crying. Locating the sound, I quickly go and find the other person. His eyes are closed, and he is in the same position as Germany was, tied to a chair with his mouth gagged. His hair is light brown and matted with sweat. They didn't hurt him. I see one hair flipping out awkwardly to the left, and to make sure he is Italy, I pull it.

A very sexual moan comes out of his mouth, making me laugh out loud. Germany is blushing like crazy, having moved next to me, trying to undo the knot in back. Italy's eyes open, and they are a caramel brown. No recognition crosses his face when he sees me, and I remove the binding from his mouth. Germany gets the knot undone, and Italy jumps up and starts clouding my face in kisses.

"Thank you thank you thank you thank you, magical stranger!" Kiss kiss kiss. "You taste really nice! Not as good as pizza-" Kiss. "-But nice." My face goes scarlet. Italy looks around, and nearly explodes when he sees Germany.

"Luddy!" He cries, jumping on Germany. I giggle. "You came to save me! And you brought a lady friend! I knew you weren't gay!" Germany pushes Italy off of him, dusting himself off.

"Yeah. I needed to." Germany whacks Italy across the head. "Idiot." Italy whines a little. "This is Thalassa. She came to help me find you. She's a new country. And I don't like her like that." I wave a little, and Italy hugs me.

"Nice to meet you!" He greets and I mutter a 'yeah'. Germany smiles.

"You two should get along together nicely. America told me how much of a good cook you are." Germany speaks, and Italy brightens up.

"You can cook? Me too! What's your favorite thing to cook?" Italy gushes.

"…I like making sweets. And deep dish pizza." I volunteer.

"Really!? What's deep dish pizza?" I nearly slap myself in the face.

"…My God, help me." I whisper, "Alright. We're going food shopping. After we free France. I may be a national fighter, but I'm not one to leave people for dead." They both nod in agreement, and we trudge back upstairs. France is still hooked up, but he's passed out. I unhook the cuffs, letting his arms drop down limply. Germany carries him upstairs, and I write him a note after cleaning his face and wounds and laying him in bed.

_ France,_

_ My apologies for hurting you. You're a really pretty boy without the broken face. I hope we can become allies in the world, for I am a new country. I'm friends with Germany and Italy and America, and I want to be friends with you too. I hope you get better quickly. I'm guessing a week?_

_ Love,_

_ Tally Jones, or Thalassa_

_ P.S. What's your favorite type of dog?_


	12. Ten

I got insecure about my chapter length. So I doubled.

Tu aime?

After some intense rock paper scissors between Italy and Germany on whose country we should go to, Italy comes out the winner, and Germany lets him win. We head over to the car.

"Shotgun! I call it!" I say. Italy fusses up.

"But I want shotgun!" He whines. We bicker about it until Germany whacks us both on the head.

"Shut up. You're both riding in the back." He growls.

"But Germany-" We start, but he puts up a hand.

"No. In the back. Now." We both sigh and get in. The car is small in the back, leaving Italy and I in a crowded heap. I guess this is punishment for annoying Germany. I pull out my iPod.

"Hey- What's that?" Italy asks me.

"Music." I reply. "Want a bud? You'd have to follow my music though." He nods.

"Yeah! I love music!" His voice had a smooth Italian accent. I give him the left one and keep the right. I go to my favorite playlist, 'Old Shit', and hit shuffle.

The first song that plays is The Beatles 'I Am The Walrus'. Oh, Italy's in for a treat.

After that song, Italy stops listening to my music.

"Wha… What was that?" He asks warily.

"British music from the late sixties." He shudders at my response.

"Britain is so scary…" He mumbles, and I recall the picture America showed me.

"No he isn't. He didn't look scary, in the picture that America showed me. He looked…" I couldn't figure out how to describe him. "Proper. He looked very well kempt and proper. Like a little school boy. If you're worried about anyone, I would be worried about France…" Yeah.

"France is nice!" Italy argues.

"For someone that kidnaps you? Yeah, he's a real sweetheart." I answer sarcastically.

"He's my big brother… He's just…" Italy yawns, replying quietly, "He's just lonely. And misunderstood…" He passes out. What the hell?

"Does he do that often?" I ask Germany.

"Yeah. He is just so upbeat and happy all the time, it tires him out really quickly. Plus the fact that he was kidnapped…"

"I guess I would be pretty beat too." I reply sleepily. No, I correct myself, I am pretty beat. I'm so tired, I'm about to pass out…

I wake up in the car, but it has stopped. Italy was shaking me, telling me we were home. I groggily get out of the car, stumbling and tripping falling forward. Thank God cars had drivers on the right side of the car, or I would be pretty busted up. Germany had caught me.

"Thank you," I say quietly. He rights me.

"No problem." He replies gruffly. Looking around, I can see we were at a marketplace. Italy and I look at each other, grinning.

"Grocery Time!" We shout together, and run into the crowd of people.

"Okay, so what will we need for this 'deep dish pizza'?" Italy asks me.

"If I remember correctly, we'll need stuff for dough, ground beef, pepperoni, parmesan cheese, tomato sauce… And that's it." I check if I thought of everything correctly.

"Okay, follow me!" He grabs my hand and pulls me through the crowds. There is a vegetable tent where we get homemade tomato sauce, a meat stand where we get our beef and pepperoni, and a cheese stand to get the cheese.

"I already have the dough stuff at home." Italy says. We begin walking back to where we came from, and…

Germany is not there.

"Hey…" I ask when we reach the car, "Where's Germany?" Italy shrugs.

"It's okay, he'll know when we're done. He always does." Strange, but I don't question.

"So…" I try and think of something to small talk about, and remember Germany's story. "What was your childhood like?" Italy grins.

"I grew up with my grandpa Rome!" He explains. I nod, figuring that the thought of him being Germany's childhood lover was false. "He was really nice. I was friends with France and my brother Romano, and Holy Roman Empire, but then Papa Rome took me away."

"Holy Roman Empire?" That was Germany's old name. Does that mean…?

"Oh, yeah. But anyways, I was taken away by my Grandpa Rome, and then after a few decades, he took me back home. I had learned to read and write and draw, and to sing! But when I got back, everyone was mean. France kept picking on me, and Holy Rome wanted me to join him in war, but… I didn't want to. I was finally kidnapped by Austria-"

"Austria? He didn't happen to let you listen to his piano music, did he?" I question.

"Oh yes! He was such a magnificent player! I would hum his songs afterwards while cleaning…"

"Was Holy Roman Empire there too?" I ask.

"Yeah! He softened up around me, but at first, I don't think he recognized me. It might be because Hungary would dress me in her childhood clothing…" So that's why! Germany, back when he was Holy Roman Empire, liked Italy, who he didn't recognize and thought was a girl! Wow… That's incredibly weird…

"Really? So you wore girl clothes?" He nods.

"Yeah!"

"When was the last time you saw Holy Rome?" I ask.

"Back as a kid… The day he left… He was going to fight in the war. He wanted me to join him, he had asked the day before, but I declined. I told him I didn't want to fight. I knew I would lose. He ran away after that, and I didn't see him until the next day. Hungary had known I liked him, and told me that he was leaving that day. I begged him not to go, but he went anyways. He said we'd meet again, but… It wasn't meant to be…" He trails off, and I look at him. He has tears going down his cheeks.

"Hey," I say, stepping towards him, "There's no need to cry. I think you two will meet again!" He sniffs, and looks at me.

"…You think so?" He asks softly, wiping his face off. I look behind him to see Germany finally breaking through the crowd, heading towards us. I smile.

"I know so." I reply softly. He turns to see Germany. Before I could blink, Italy is in a big bear hug with Germany. Germany is blushing.

"Germany! I missed you!" Italy cries happily. Germany awkwardly pats Italy's back.

"Yeah… I missed you too… Why the hell did you two run off like that!? I was worried for you two!" He shouts. I blush, and Italy explains how excited he was to go shopping with his new friend.

_Every love story is different, _I think to myself, _which makes every love story difficult in its own way. Love is never easy. _Then, with an adding thought, I answer my question._ When did I think it was?_


	13. Eleven

Ready for rapid-fire update?

I'm going to try and update as much as I can tonight U Watch me crash and burn.

We all go to Italy's house, and it is really nice there. The house is an old, Hispanic styled two story place with a nice vegetable garden and yellow outdoor rocks as the house walls. I have a room upstairs, along with Germany and Italy. Italy's house is decently sized, and he lives alone, with three rooms other than his own. After I unpack (Germany already has other clothes here, he visits often), I head down to the kitchen, where Italy is waiting for me to teach him how to make deep dish pizza. In his excitement of learning a new recipe, he already has the ingredients out.

"Okay," I start, "First we need to get out the pans." He points to where they're located, and I open the cabinet. After searching for a few minutes, I find the needed pan and bowl. The pan in two inches deep, and the bowl is a simple metal bowl. We set the oven and grate the cheese. I show him to cook the ground beef, and begin working on the dough. I get finished with it right as he puts the beef into a separate bowl. I tell him to mix the beef with the tomato sauce, which he does perfectly. I fix the dough into the pan, framing the bottom and the sides with the substance.

"Pour it in." I order. He does so. I get the pepperoni, and layer it on top.

"Shredded cheese?" He nods, and hands it over. I put it smoothly on top of the pepperoni.

The ending product before putting it into the oven was absolutely good looking. The cheese ended right at the top of the pan, outlined in raw dough. I put it in the oven.

"Now, while it's cooking for an hour," I explain to Italy, "We can play cards. It's an old habit of mine…"

_ -I now remember when I would help mother cook this, and while it was baking, we would play Uno while giggling about blocking each other's wins. The kitchen was yellow, and the table was old, but it was a decent table, with spilt nail polish and light scratches and memories on it-_

"Do you have Uno cards?" I ask him, coming out of my memories, and he nods.

"I like American culture. Of course I have Uno cards!" He runs out of the room, and comes back with the cards and Germany.

"Germany will play cards too, right?" I nod.

"If he wants to, sure." We all sit at the round dining table, and I pass out nine cards to each of us. Germany is really competitive about these types of winning games. He is putting down skips and reverses excitedly. We play four rounds and Germany wins two of them. Italy and I win one each. Italy rushes up quickly when he hears the ding of the timer, and reaches in quickly with bare hands.

"Don't!" I call, but he pulls up quickly with it balanced on his fingertips. I decide that he must be inhuman. "How… How can you hold that without screaming bloody murder?" I ask. He puts the pan down, the cheese inside still bubbling.

"I don't have nerves in my hands. I have cut the tips of the skin off, and burnt them while cooking too much. My body is a really smart guy!" I laugh, and get out a knife from a drawer that Italy points to. After cutting the pizza into squares, I let the guys choose their pieces.

"Be sure you have a side piece! They're the best!" I advise, and they heed it, grabbing side pieces. Before getting my slice, I watch their reactions while eating it.

"Damn, this is good!" Germany mumbles, stuffing another bite into his mouth.

"Oh wow! Thank you, Mama Tally! It's really good!" Italy laughs, and I smile, pleased. I grab my own chunk and sit with them, feeling like a part of their little family. It makes me feel nice.

After dinner, we all hit the bedrooms. I can't sleep though, and looking out the window, I decide that the roof would be a nice place to go and think. I need to do that.

I sit up on the roof, looking at the stars. So much has changed since I left my home, even the stars. I'm starting to remember things. The song… What was it…? Oh yeah! Fur Elise! And I remember how to make the deep dish pizza, but it was missing something… I could tell… Red pepper seasoning! That's what it was!

…What is happening to me? I haven't made deep dish pizza since I was a child, yet being around Italy… It helped me remember! And I wouldn't have remembered that I could even _play _the piano, let alone know the song I used to play, without Germany! America helped me recall all the events of the first day he came to my Island, which is something I can't usually do! I sigh.

What if it's not the people around me, but the way _I_ am around _them_? I instantly become alert, hearing a noise beside me. I turn to see Germany.

"Hey." I say stiffly.

"Hey. I was checking on Italy, he has nightmares at night a lot, and thought it would only be reasonable to check on you too. You two are just so alike, I felt that you might have also had something frightening occur in your dreams." I smile, and shake my head.

"Thank you for the concern, but no. I couldn't sleep, and it looked really peaceful out here…" I sigh, and pull my knees to my chest. "Everything's different for me. Even the stars." I relay my earlier thought to him, but only that thought. I don't want him to try and understand my weird memory problems.

"Yes, I would suppose so… Does it feel different for you? To be a country now?" He asks, and after thinking about it, I shake my head no.

"Not really, I feel like I have since I found the Island."

"What was it like… Being a human?"

"It wouldn't know. I have never really felt human. I guess it would feel nice, having somewhere you grew up being somewhere you belonged." I answer thoughtfully, and he nods.

"Getting the topic off of me… Do you like Italy?" I ask, wagging my eyebrows suggestively. If he liked Italy as a child, could he like him now? He blushes.

"Of course not, like I've said before! He's a guy, and I'm a guy…" He replies awkwardly.

"Yeah? What's so bad about that?"

"Well… I'm straight…" I raise an eyebrow.

"Uh huh." He glares at me. "What if you did like him? What would you do?"

"Well, if I did like Italy, which I don't," He answers quickly, "I would protect him, and care for him, and find him when he gets lost, and drive for him… If he ever got beat up, I would go and kill the person who did so, and I would buy him nice presents for no reason, and visit him every day. Hell, I'd come here and live with him! If I liked Italy…"

"So…" I smile, "you would treat him exactly the way you do now?" He blushes.

"T-that's not what I meant!" He whispers loudly.

"You like Italy!" I say in a sing song voice. He covers my mouth.

"…So what if I do? What am I supposed to do?" He quietly says. I move his hand from my mouth.

"How would you treat the girl from Austria's house?" I rhetorically answer. "Once upon a time," I can't believe I'm going to do this, "There was a little boy named Italy. He was kidnapped by Austria, and forced to clean Mr. Austria's house."

"What does this have to do with-"

"Sh. Hungary, Austria's wife at the time, thought Italy had outgrown his old clothes, and decided she would dress him up in her old clothes. Italy wore them most of his childhood. Then one day, a young boy came to live with Austria. His name was Holy Roman Empire. At first, Italy was scared of Holy Rome, but grew to like him. Holy Rome would follow Italy around while cleaning, and Italy would try teaching Holy Rome to draw, but it never worked out. They both grew to like each other." Germany's eyes widen. "Sound familiar, Germany? Italy was a guy, dressed as a girl, who liked you. That means he's gay. Or at least bisexual. And you liked him too!"

"I-I thought he was a girl!" He mutters angrily.

"You never asked him, you just assumed. It is some of your fault for just assuming. You'll have to tell him, you know. Tell him your story. He'll understand, I know it."

"No he won't! He'll be furious with me for not telling him sooner, and-" I backhand him across the face.

"Come on. This is Italy we're talking about. If he's anything like me, he never gets angry." I smile. "Tell him tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay, fine." Germany huffs. I hold out a pinkie.

"Promise?" I ask him. He hesitates, but puts his pinkie up, linking it with mine.

"Promise." He repeats. "But hey, can I try something? I need to make sure…" Confused, but wanting to help my friend, I nod.

His lips press against mine, and I freeze. What is he doing? It doesn't go any further than closed mouth kissing, but it doesn't need to. He gets his answer.

"Good. I'm still straight." He sighs in relief. "It's just Italy… He's the only male I've ever liked." He stands up, and steps through the window, turning to help me inside. I take his offer, and say goodnight to him while he leaves. I flop onto the bed. Feeling a lot more tired than earlier, I pass out quickly.


	14. Twelve

I wake up, completely unnerved. I had the nightmare again. But this time, I remembered what my mother looked like.

_ -Her hair was brown, and she had the same colored eyes as me. Her nose was small, her lips thin. She had freckles and was pale. She didn't grow taller than me, but she was a very fiery woman- _

I think. I can't remember her personality. Just her face. I yawn, and get out of bed. My phone rings annoyingly. I snatch it quickly and press it to my ear.

"Good morning, Thalassa! How was your first day there? It's nice there, isn't it? Germany isn't being mean to you? Are you and Italy getting along?" I barely caught any of the information that he was saying.

"…What? I just… woke up… Who is this?" I say dazedly.

"It's America! I wanted to know if everything was going okay with you!" He says worriedly. I smile. He's such an amazing brother.

"Yeah… Yeah. Everything's fine. What time is it over there?" I look at a clock while asking him the question. It's eleven in the morning here.

"It's two o'clock!" He answers happily.

"In the afternoon?"

"No, in the morning, silly!" He responds.

"What the hell are you doing awake at two in the morning?!" I ask him, shocked.

"Have you ever heard the term 'America never sleeps'?" He asks. I laugh.

"Makes sense, I guess…"

"So how was everything? You guys find Italy?"

"Yeah, France did take him. It was amazing, I beat his ass…" I recall all of the events of the day before with clear precision. Something I wouldn't usually be able to do…

"Wait, what? Germany is Holy Rome?"

"Yep. Had a fling with Italy as a kid. The entire time Germany-slash-Holy Rome thought Italy was a girl!" I smile at the thought. Italy must have been one cute little fucker.

"Oh my God! That's rich!" He laughs.

"Yeah, but keep it on the down low. I'm not sure if they're going to explain to each other about it though. It could be nothing, just the past." I whisper. "Speaking of which, I have to go. You had caught me when I had just woken up, so I need to say good morning to them. Talk to you later?"

"Yeah, later Thalassa." I hang up, and head outside of my room. I can hear loud shouting.

"… What do you mean, you're Holy Rome!?" Italy cries.

"I mean, that I was Holy Roman Empire! I had to change my name so no one would kill me after the wars!" Germany shouts back. I peek into the room to see Italy sitting on the floor, his back to a wall, knees up to his chest. His arms are on top of his knees, and he is crying into them. Germany is standing over Italy, shouting at him.

"Why… why did you never come back? You said you would, and you lied! You lied, you lied, you lied!" Italy wails.

"I…" Germany gets onto his knees, next to Italy. "I did. You weren't there. I couldn't find you anywhere. Austria said you ran away after rumor had had it that I died."

"I had gone back to my home country, and they let me be! I held my condolences alone!" Italy sobs. "If it weren't for you faking your death, I wouldn't have left! I wish you would have just stayed away! I wish you wouldn't have tried to find me! Better yet, I wish you wouldn't have left! _I wish I wouldn't have met you at all!" _Italy screams. "Go! Get out of this house! I'm done with you! Leave me alone!"

"Italy…" Germany tries, heartbroken.

"No! Get out of my house and stay away!"

"Damn it, Italy!" Germany curses, "Let me explain!"

"Your time of explaining is done. Take your girlfriend, and go. After all, she has been spying on us for the last five minutes!" They both turn to me, and my face goes scarlet. Well, time to man up, I guess. I walk into the room.

"Good morning to you two too." I mutter. "First, I'm not his girlfriend." Italy tries to speak, but I hold up a hand. "I'm not even remotely interested in him. No offence," I say to Germany.

"Oh, none taken." He smiles.

"The reason I'm not interested in him, is because I know he is still not over _you_. And because, well, I don't think of him like that. I don't think of anyone like that right now." I take a few steps around the sitting room we're in.

"Second, if it weren't for me, you two would still be rolling around in you 'we-like-each-other-but-we're-friend-zoned-to-each-other' type of relationship. Isn't it obvious!?" I shout. "I knew that Germany liked you, Italy, since the first day I met him! He had come over to America's house, searching _desperately_ for you! He wasn't even thinking straight, because of all people to kidnap you, he thought that America was the one that would do it!" Italy is looking at Germany, realization in his eyes, while Germany blushes.

"And you!" I point at Italy. "Well, ever since I heard your side of the story, I kind of felt it was obvious you still liked Holy Rome, and you thought Germany looked like him, am I right?" Italy nods quickly. "Exactly! So what are you two fighting about now?"

"Germany didn't tell me that he was Holy Rome!" Italy tattle tales.

"Germany didn't know if he liked you or not, and he didn't know you were the same Italy from back then. I helped him figure that out last night." I turn to Germany for any reasons why he is arguing. He shakes his head no.

"Cool. You two make a butt-fucking adorable couple. Go out. I'm going to be packing up soon anyways, because we found you, Italy." Italy is immediately by my side.

"Don't leave yet! You just got here!" Italy whines.

"I know, but my Island is only one person big right now. I need to get more people to live there."

"I'll have some of my people go live there! As long as you have pasta. Or pizza!" He sighs. "I'll visit you often if you do." I smile.

"I'll have people go live there as well." Germany relents, "Only for Italy's sake, though." Italy blushes.

"Aw, you guys are just so fucking cute!" I gush. Germany hits me across the head.

"Shut up, and get going. Five bucks says the you will get kidnapped yourself by another country if you don't leave soon." I pale at the thought.

"Alright. I'll call America and tell him to book me a flight. Should I tell him the good news too?" They look at each other, and simultaneously nod.

"Awesome." They head out onto their date, and I call America.

"Guess who's Mrs. Matchmaker? She is also the same person that's coming home right now!" I say when he picks up.

"They're a couple? Nice. I'll book you a flight for… three?" I nod.

"Yep. Perfect."

"See you soon."

"Okay, bye." I hang up, and look at the time. It's only noon. I have three hours to pack everything, and find the airport.


	15. Thirteen

ATTENTION. YOU MEET PART ONE'S (SHORT AS FUCK) LOVE INTREST.

GONNA GET JUICY... :3

I easily get back to America, and he himself is waiting for me.

"How was it there? It's really pretty, from what I can remember…" He greets. I grin.

"It was gorgeous. You should have joined me. Pervert." I tease.

"Nah, I had to go help Canada. He's having some problems finding his dumb bear." He excuses for himself.

"Bear?" I ask worriedly. I'm not really fond of a loose bear.

"Oh yeah. He has a stuffed bear, who he calls some weird name… Kilimanjaro? No…" He tries to remember the bears name, and fails.

"Kumajirou?" I ask, and he snaps his fingers.

"That's it! How'd you know?" He wonders aloud.

"I… Don't know… It just popped into my head." I trail off, not even knowing how I knew it, let alone pronouncing it correctly – Kuma-G-row – and knowing exactly how to spell it.

"Well, he says he gave his house keys to the bear, so since he can't find it, he can't get into his house. I offered to let him stay with us, okay?" I nod.

"He's… Your brother?" I ask.

"Yep. He's the opposite side of me." Not knowing what he means, I just sit back, and fall asleep on the ride home.

"…Hey, Thalassa?" Something pokes my face.

"…What?" I mumble groggily.

"We're here. Get up." I open my eyes to see America getting ready to poke me again. He sees that I have opened my eyes and quickly puts his hand down.

"Alrighty." I grab my stuff quickly, and go into the house. Going back up to the same room I was in a few days ago, I open it.

Coming face to face with who I assume is Canada.

Butt naked.

I squeal and run from the room.

"America!" I yell frantically. He is just coming up the front steps.

"Canada…" I puff, "…Upstairs… Naked…"

"Yeah… I told him he could take a shower. Why is that a –" Realization dawns on his face. "Oh. You've never seen a- yeah. I can see how that's awkward." He pulls out a chair and makes me sit. "I'll, uh, go get you a drink of water." He leaves quickly. Canada comes down the stairs.

"I'm sorry!" We both say at the same time, blushing like crazy freaks.

"I-I'm sorry Canada. America had told me you were staying with him, and I didn't think… Yeah…" I stumble with my wording, blushing deeper.

"Oh heavens no! It's all my fault!" His voice is quiet, sweet. I have to lean in to hear him. "I should have gotten dressed faster. I'm always wasting time, thinking about useless things." He sighs and sits at another chair. A few moments pass.

"It's alright, Canada. It's my fault. Knowing that you were here, I should have knocked." I mumble. A few more moments pass.

"It's… Rather ironic… For once, someone knows my name. And I don't know theirs." He smiles.

"Everyone knows your name! It's me that nobody knows." I put out a hand for him to shake. "My name's Thalassa. I'm a new country. America's helping me out." I explain.

"I'm Canada!" He says cheekily, but his voice is very silent. I take a good look at him, and must say, he looks an awful lot like America. His glasses are perfectly round, but gold like Americas. He has the same hairstyle, but instead of a curved strand of hair poking straight up, it's one curly piece, framing his face. His hair is a lighter blonde than Americas, and he is frailer looking than America. They would seem to be the same height, and both have dimples and bright blue eyes. Canada's hair has a yellow-ish tint to it, and I recall France having the same hair color. For some reason, a weird, tingly feeling fills my stomach while assessing his features. Looking at the curly piece of hair again, I blush, remembering what it does to the certain countries.

"What's making you uncomfortable?" He asks. "You're blushing… Is it me? Oh, I'll leave if it is!" I shake my head.

"No! You're fine! It's just… You have the hair thing too…" I point to his head, and he understands, cheeks beginning to flame like mine are.

"Oh… Yeah… How'd you know about… It's effect?" He whispers.

"Found out the hard way. I pulled America's." I smile, remembering it.

"Oh. So you're America's girlfriend?" Damn him, making me blush like an inexperienced school girl. Well, I am inexperienced, but I'm no schoolgirl!

"God sakes no. He's my best friend." I laugh. His face brightens.

"Cool. That's great." He grins like the happiest guy on earth. "I-I mean… For you. You shouldn't have a boyfriend."

"Why? Do I look bad or something?" I mumble, now self conscious about myself.

"No! I didn't mean it like that! I mean that you don't need America!" He tries to redeem himself.

"I don't? But… He's been so nice!" I reason.

"Yeah, I have been really nice to her." America butts in, walking with a glass of water in hand.

"No! Damn it! I didn't mean it like that either!" He shouts out, face in hands. After taking deep breaths for a few minutes, he stands up. "I'm taking a break. I'll come back when I figure out how to say what I feel. I apologize for my lack of description." He's stumbling and blushing, and I can't help but think about how adorable he is. He goes quickly up the stairs, and I'm left with America.

"What the…" I say confusedly.

"Wonder what that was all about…" America says. I turn to him.

"Do I look bad? I could get a boyfriend, right? I'm only asking you because you're my best friend, and I need the input." He laughs like that was one of the funniest jokes ever.

"Thalassa, you look beautiful! Of course you could get a boyfriend! Why?"

"Canada said-"

"Canada has problems with words. Did he say exactly that you were bad looking and could never get a boyfriend?"

"Well," I answer, "No…"

"Then he's just trying to say something else."

"Oh." I say, "Can I go talk to him?"

"Sure. Be careful though. He gets flustered easily around girls." I nod, and head up the stairs.


	16. Fourteen

Going up the stairs, I'm swept up in a flourish of music.

I know the song. It is 'Accidentally In Love' by Counting Crows. It's just on guitar and vocals, but the rhythm in it is easy to hear. The song… the singing… entrances me. Before I know it, I'm rocking back and forth, humming the song. I can feel my eyes unfocusing, my breaths slowing, my body taking control as my mind flutters elsewhere. I slowly make my way to the door of the room, fighting the need to break down and pass out in my now drunken, hazy state. I finally reach my destination, and put my hands on the door. I can't hold it in anymore. I begin to sing the chorus when it reaches that point in the song. The music stops abruptly, but I continue to sing it out anyways. The door is flung open, and I fall forward onto Canada's chest. He puts his hands onto my upper arms to steady me.

"Hey." I say breathlessly. "What was the music that was playing? I heard it from down stairs… And it was so… Wow." He blushes, and spaces himself from me.

"It was me. I brought my guitar." He says absently.

"Can… Can I come in?" I ask, and he nods wordlessly. I go in and sit on the bed, next to the acoustic guitar. He leans against the wall, near the doorframe. After a few moments, he speaks.

"I'm sorry. I can't believe I made a fool out of myself like that. I hope you'll understand and forgive me." He says it like he's been practicing it for a while, like how some people say the 'Pledge of Allegiance'. Mechanically. I look at him.

"…How many times have you said that before?" I question.

"Only a few times."

"To someone else?"

"Yeah." He looks out the window while he responds, and something makes me stand up. I take a few tentative steps toward him, as he spaces out, lost in thought.

"What are you thinking?" I curiously ask.

"I can't tell you." He sighs. "You'll think I'm a retarded moronic little innocent kid."

"You can't tell me? Then… Show me?" I say.

"I… Can't." He sighs again. "You… I don't feel right when I'm near you… I'm never like this usually. It would be unlike me to speak my thoughts. Or show them, for that matter. I was raised politely, and will act the part."

"…Politeness may be a common courtesy," I say slowly, blankly, after a few moments, "But every once and a while… Some people need to be rude and straight forward. Blank stares and over spoken words are repetitive. Words and gazes with feeling… Now that's courtesy. What's the point of being polite if you can't be what you want? Be with who you want? Do what you want?" I step closer to him. "…You may choose to be a mild mannered kind person, but I am not going to settle for it. I take what I want, and give what I don't. It's an easy lifestyle without stupid facades." I look up at him, who is half a head taller than me. I blink, and he bear hugs me.

"I'll try." He whispers into my hair. "So here I go. You're really fucking beautiful, and everyone knows it. I get all tingly inside my stomach when I look at you, and I don't even know you! What… What's wrong with me?" He pulls away, waiting for my answer and an arm length.

"The same thing that's wrong with me." I tell him, and he smiles. That's a difference between him and America. They both have the same looking lips, but Americas smile always has one side quirk up more than the other, in a lopsided smirk. Canada… His lips quirk up perfectly on each side, and he has a small dimple on his left cheek when he smiles.

"It's my turn." I smile. "I find you really fucking adorable. From the little dimple on your face," I poke the dimple, making him smile wider, "To your curly hair strand." Before he can react, I pull it. Now knowing how the roughness of the pull effects the stimulation, I pull it lightly, but enough for him to do what I want him to do. His hands go on my hips, and I tilt my head up so he can kiss me. It's a kiss that doesn't progress into anything, but it lasts a few seconds. Those are now the longest seconds of my life. My lips twitch and are paralyzed at the contact. There isn't fireworks, but there is definitely something.

It's something I like, no doubt.


	17. Fifteen

When we walk downstairs after the heated kiss, we're holding hands. America raises his eyebrows at us, and we blush simultaneously.

"I-I um," Canada tries to say, but stops.

"We're going out. Is that okay?" I ask for him, to which he kisses my cheek gratefully. I turn a deeper shade of red.

"Damn, Canada," America laughs, "You sure do work fast. Sure, you guys can go party. Thalassa, can I talk to you?" I nod, and he nearly drags me out of the room.

"What's up?" I whisper when we reach the kitchen.

"There are the three B's. Britain taught me them when I was a teenager, with wild hormones." He holds up a finger. "Be gentle. Don't pressure him to do something he doesn't want to do, and don't confuse him about anything, and be nice to him." He adds another finger to the first. "Second. Be forgiving. He might say the wrong thing, and he might do something you don't like. Just let him know, and he'll cool off. But then again, he is related to France…" He shakes his head, and lifts a third finger. "Be safe. If you guys, you know, 'butter the bread'-"

"Okay!" I cry. "I understand! Don't go further!" I hold a hand to his mouth. "I know. I'm not some naïve little girl." I move my hand. "Oh, and Italy and Germany are inviting people to come live on Thalassa." He smiles.

"Okay, and that's good. You need to have some variety on your Island." He explains.

"Awesome! And… When do I get to go back home? I need to plan some stuff out, and get things built. Or hire people to build things for me… Yeah." I nod.

"You can go back anytime." He says. "Do you need any money for that? I can loan you some if you want…" I shake my head quickly.

"Oh! I'm fine! I have a lot of money saved up…" He raises an eyebrow, and whips out a check book. "Stop it! You idiot! I'll be fine!" I shout, and he shoves a check into my hand. I look at the amount he gave me and instantly give it back to him. "Hell no! Five hundred grand? You can't do that!" He gives the check back, forcing me to keep it.

"Seriously, Thalassa. You're going to need it, trust me." He insists, and I sigh.

"…Are you positive?" I ask quietly.

"When I was just a new country, if someone would have given me that much money, I would have cried with joy." I laugh, and he smiles in return.

"…Thanks. It means a lot. I think I already have an idea for the plans…" I trail off, thinking about it. Then I remember. "Ah! Canada! I completely forgot!" I whack myself in the forehead. "Jeez, I'm such a twit sometimes!" I run out of the kitchen, grabbing Canada's hand. "Bye, America!" I yell and shut the door. We take Canada's car, which is a big truck. It's old, and rusty. I love it instantly.

"Your car…" I whisper in awe.

"Yeah, it's a piece of junk, I know." Canada says sadly.

"No! I love it! It has such an old look to it, I love old cars… The trucks, especially. They're so worth it if they have sticky pedals, or something that comes with old cars like that…" I explain, and he brightens up.

"Exactly! I love old motorcycles, and trucks! I have a motorcycle, but it's at home." I laugh.

"That's okay. I don't like motorbikes. They scare the shit out of me." I reveal.

"Remind me to fix that later. But in the meantime, we have ourselves a rendezvous. Where do you want to go?"

"Anywhere." I answer, and get in the car, waiting in excitement at what he'll come up with.

We end up going to an oriental restaurant, sharing a secret love for Asian cuisine, and went to see a movie. The food is amazing, both of us slurping up noodles from our soup. The movie's a comedy, and we are huddling in the back of the theater, laughing and shouting when something funny happens. Thank god the theater room is nearly empty! We both are shaking with laughter half the way home, but calm down after a few minutes.

"That was an amazing first date," I grin. He blushes at my comment.

"Yeah. I-It was pretty cool. I can't believe we have so much in common!" He exclaims. I laugh.

"I know right? That is so cool! Will…" My throat dies, so I cough and try again. "Will there be a second date soon?" I hold my breath, waiting for the answer.

"You want there to be a second date?" He asks incredulously. I nod shyly.

"You don't want a second date, do you?" I sigh. He slams on the breaks in the middle of the road. There are no cars at this time of night, but it still makes me worried.

"What?" He shouts, "Of course I do! I want there to be a second date! And many more!" I look at him from across the seat of the truck.

"…Really?" My voice is just below a whisper, barely audible. He nods fiercely.

"Yes! Why wouldn't I? I like you!" He grabs my hand. "I promise! I will never let you down, Thalassa. Ever." I smile and hug him.

"God damn you." I whisper. "You're so fucking sweet and adorable and nice and all of that shit." He smells sweet too, like syrup. I like syrup.

"Screw you," He mutters in my ear. "You're all of that shit and one other thing."

"What other thing?" We pull away from the hug, and he doesn't answer. He drives home and we both fall asleep on the twin bed together in a massive twist of limbs and blankets. Right before we pass out, he kisses me and whispers in my ear.

"You're my girlfriend."


	18. Sixteen

When I wake up, the bed is empty. I feel cold. I lean up quickly, worried about Canada. He's okay? Did he get kidnapped? I stand up, and walk out of the room in my pajamas. Still dreary from sleep but determined, I reach the stairs.

Halfway down, I stumble.

"Holy shit!" I exclaim as I tumble. When my body settles, I'm on my back with my legs in the air. Steps rush over to me, and Canada picks me up. For someone so lean, he's really strong. He must get that from America.

"Thalassa! Are you okay?" He's carrying me bridal style, and sets me on the futon in the living room.

"I… I'm fine… I think…" I say wearily. I remember a time when I was younger; I had fallen down stairs outside. My legs were bloody, my elbows scraped, and my nose was bleeding. I lay there all day, until mom had come home from work. I was asleep when she found me. At least that's what she had said when I was located.

"Thalassa? Are you sure?" Canada asks for reassurance.

"I just… You weren't in bed… I was worried…" I whimper.

"Oh… I was making breakfast. Pancakes?" He tries.

"Awesome. I like… Pancakes…" I still am half asleep. He checks me out to make sure I am truly alright. Something must not be, because his jaw drops and he pales.

"Look at your leg! Oh cripes!" I glance at it. It's scraped in one big gash diagonally crossing my shin.

"Yeah. That's nice. I'm going to need a rag, Neosporin, and band aids. Can you get that for me?" I ask. He nods, and walks quickly out of the room. He must not be comfortable around flesh wounds. Does that mean-

"Hello? Canada? Tally? I heard a lot of shouting…" America stumbles down the stairs groggily. He must me a late riser, because he's rubbing his eyes and yawning, nearly sleeping on his feet. He looks at my leg and instantly wakes up.

"Whoa! That's so cool! Can I poke it?" He asks like a little kid who sees presents under a Christmas tree.

"Sure." I agree. He pokes it. I feel nothing. My leg must have gone numb under the pain. Canada emerges from the bathroom, carrying the things I asked for. He gives them to me and waits expectantly, not looking below my waist at anything. He is obviously on autopilot, and needs some assistance.

"America, take Canada into the kitchen and help him make pancakes. He's already started." America nods and drags Canada away. I quickly wipe up the blood that's oozing from the deep gash, and layer it in Neosporin. I use eight band aids, and get up, walking into the kitchen. America is whistling, setting the table. Canada is standing blankly at the oven, shuffling the pan lightly.

"Canada? Are you okay?" I ask in my turn of caring for him. He doesn't respond. I walk over to him, hugging him from behind.

"It's all okay, Canada. I got it taken care of, see?" I lift my leg, showing him my handy bandaging job. He looks down at it for a minute, and looks back at the pan.

"…Good." He breathes deeply. "I'm glad you have it taken care of… I'm not very comfortable around blood, sorry about that." I nod.

"It's okay! I should have realized… You might be like that…" I trail off. He looks pointedly at me.

"Like what?" He asks.

"Like… Not okay around guts and gore. I've noticed recently that though you and he look alike, you and America are different. America is bold, and sarcastic, and broad, and gets along with people easily, and is more recognized…" Canada glares at me. "But he is also a scaredy cat, a late sleeper, a lazy person, an arrogant jerk head, and he's annoyingly loud." I look at him, who hasn't heard a word I've said, still out of it for being awake so early. "You are cute, and quiet, and funny. You must be rather brave, and honest, and you're very concerned for others. Sure, I'm best friends with America… But you're my boyfriend." I blush at the brave statement. He puts down the pan, and hugs me tightly.

"Fuck you and your dorky self." He mutters into my hair, and I laugh.

The pancakes are delicious. I begin packing up my stuff, since I'm planning on leaving for home tomorrow. Canada watches me, only looking away when I get my undergarments. He is so adorable.

"Gah! You're so fucking adorable!" He blushes, looking down.

"Stop calling me adorable." He mumbles. "I love you complementing me, but… Guys shouldn't be called adorable. I feel like a kid when you do that." I sit on the bed next to him.

"But… You're like a little kid! You're inexperienced, and you still have a teddy bear! Sure, I love it, but it's awfully childlike. I like that part of you. It's…" I pause for effect. "Adorable." He flings himself backward.

"You're teaching me how to be bolder and not hold back my true feelings, so is it okay if I say something?" He asks politely. I nod.

"Stop calling me adorable! I don't want to be called adorable! I want to be treated like a grown up!" He shouts, appalling me.

"But-"

"NO! If you call me adorable one more time, I'm leaving!" He pauses, thinking. In a quieter voice, he adds, "No, you know what? I'm going to anyways." I look at him, shocked.

"What? Why?"

"Because I'm not ready for you." That's even more shocking. I stare at him, mouth gaping. What? He can't possibly be serious!

"What? Of course you are!" I exclaim, and he holds up a hand.

"I'm not. I have a teddy bear, and I don't talk my feelings, and I need to change that! I need to grow up! If we happened to progress past kissing… I wouldn't know what to do! I would panic, and maybe even pass out!"

"But…" I try.

"Here's the plan. I will find Kilimanjaro. You will go home. We will meet again when I'm mature enough."

"His name's Kumajirou." I tell him, and he blushes.

"Whatever! It's what will happen. Got it?"

"…You're so affirmative." I huff, and look out the window. He can't see my tears. I won't let him.

"It's for the best. I'll call you, or come visit, when it happens." I still look out the window, facing away from him. "…Thalassa?" I don't respond. "C'mon, Thalassa. Don't be like this. Look at me." I don't move. He grabs my head and turns it toward him. I don't have enough time to wipe away the tears now streaming down my face. His face falls.

"I-I…" I stutter, sniffling.

"Oh, Thalassa…" He hugs me. "It's only for now. We wouldn't be able to pull a long distance relationship anyways!" I laugh sadly, with no humor in my voice.

"We're countries, for crying out loud! How wouldn't we!?" I cry. He kisses my forehead.

"It's for the best. Just… Forget about the date. Forget about us ever… Doing anything relationship-y. Forget until I come back, okay? I won't hold you back from doing things you want to do. If you love something, let it go, right? That's what I'm doing." He reassures.

"All I should do… Is forget you?" I whisper. He nods solemnly.

"Yes. You need to go home, and figure your country out, just like I need to figure myself out. When we are ready, we'll meet again. Okay?" I nod. He stands up.

"I need to find that bear." He grabs all the stuff he brought, and leaves the room. I hear the front door slam shut, and his car pull away. I run outside to see the car disappearing.

All he wants me to do is forget. That's easy. I've been doing it my entire life, after all.

What'd I tell you? Short as fuuuckkkk. :c


	19. Mini-Interlude

I didn't leave today.

I need to soon.

I'm overstaying my welcome, and I know it.

It's been a few days since Canada left. He's so confusing. I miss him. Doesn't he understand that I don't want him to change? I like him the way he is. Maybe…

_Maybe he's right though. If we did ever get married, or have a kid, not only would I have to take care of the child, but I'd need to take care of Canada. I wouldn't be able to do that, by myself. He does need to grow up…_

_ Yes, it was for the best. I will wait for him, until he is better. Next time around, we'll be prepared. We moved too fast this time. We only knew each other for two days!_

_ Next time around_, I think. _Next time around._

_Congrats, part one just finished. c:_


	20. Part Two: Russia

Part Two: Russia

Introducing Japan, Austria, Hungary, Prussia, Russia, China, Belarus, Ukraine, Lithuania, Latvia, and Estonia

With Germany, Italy, and America


	21. Seventeen

I finally went home. It was forced, but it also needed to happen.

My Island looks the same as it did when I left.

I immediately set out to work, calling people America had noted as good builders and people that were going to come live here. There were about 200,000 people who volunteered to come here, and it took me about a week to call everyone from America, Germany, and Italy. America had side noted that his list is also combined with people from Canada, who also had volunteers. Hearing his name makes my head hurt. _Think happy thoughts, think happy thoughts._

My Island. Yes, I need to figure out my Island. I can't treat it badly because of my mental and emotional standing. I phone up some contractors, and it is set for some builders to come out tomorrow, eager to help a new country (I told them that I knew America. They were in instantly.). I found my bed, and slept lightly, excited and nervous.

They flew in bright and early in the morning, wanting to get started quickly. It has two guys as the main leaders. One of them, with his workers, will work with buildings, while the other does landscaping and roadwork. The Buildings Guy, as I have nicknamed him, is a short, stout man with puffy cheeks and a bald spot on the top of his head. He wears glasses, and laughs a lot. He's really nice, like a grandpa would be if I had one.

The other man, who is Gardening Guy in retrospect, is very tall, and well built. I would say he's hot, but he's in his early fifties, so he's kind of like a FILF. But I think he might be gay as well. His hair is graying, and he has wrinkles on his mouth and eyes from smiling. He's quieter, but also nice. They both are caring, and are going to be with me to the end.

They roughly measured the land, it coming off about 'twice the size of New York'. Asking them how big that actually was, they said nearly one thousand square miles. I was in shock.

"R-really?" I stutter, amazed. That's huge! It takes about four hours to go two hundred miles… and that's in a car! They ask me questions about my roads, and how I want them built.

"Streets or Blocks?" They ask.

"What does that mean?" I feel like such an idiot.

"America has streets, roads, Avenues… Japan has Blocks. You don't go by streets there, you go by blocks." Oh yeah! I've went there! How could I have not remembered that!?

"Duh! Sorry, I should have known that. I think I'll do… streets. The blocks are only done by Japanese people, right? I wouldn't want to confuse everyone else…" I conclude, and they nod.

"Awesome. Now, Metric or Standard?" I think about it.

"Standard, that's the one that's more used, right?" They sigh and shake their heads.

"No, America is the only one that uses Standard. Everyone else uses The Metric System."

"I'll join America! Well, then again… Do most people in the world know both?"

"No… Only Americans know both…" They answer.

"Well, then I'll use Metric. Most people understand it, so it'll work!"

"Roads with Metric system? You got it. Now, what's the plan for the buildings?" I smile at the thought.

"Well…"

The building plans are coming along well. We have set up the upper side, for those who love pine trees and apples, and are soon starting on the lower side, with jungle trees and exotic fruits. What I mainly did was decide on two towns, one North and one South. Each will have a main street, with shopping (America and Italy have nice clothing stores) and food (From everywhere in the world, Asian to German to American). Surrounding the towns there would be homes made, and then plots for people to buy and have farmland or build their own homes or whatever.

My deciding laws were simple: No killing, no underage usage of drugs (20 for drinking, heroin, acid, speed etcetera. Eighteen for everything else), no stealing, and nothing that would harm yourself or anyone around you. Follow the traffic laws, and treat everyone nicely unless they deserve it. Easy. I'll let people smoke or do whatever types of drugs they want, as long as you don't drive while on anything that will affect your skills. I'll let you drive as long as you have a car, a license, and a license plate. In one off road, I'll have a jail and court and anything official like that. On another road on the other side of each half, there will be a school. I don't think there will be many kids as of right now, so one school on each side with plenty of room to spare.

There will be one hospital right on the middle river, with a bridge to cross it. I found this to be a good idea for people that are in labor or in the later stages of life, and they might want to look at the scenery. I'll be sure to leave much of the wildlife. I love the wilderness. There are docks to fish and go scuba diving in the saltwater. I don't know how, some type of natural filter, but the river gives fresh water. The sand bank where the river starts has extreme salt levels. It helps.

The people will probably come in a few months, a year tops. It's been a year and four days since I saw anyone of my fellow countries. I'm still off the radar. America calls me once a week. I talk to him eagerly, missing him dearly. Italy calls me occasionally, maybe every other month. He talks about Germany, and I talk about my Island. Him and Germany have been, ahem, 'going steady' for a year now. They're so adorable together. They want to adopt a country, but don't know of any that aren't all ready found. I'd offer myself, but I'm too old. I'm now… twenty seven. Happy Birthday for me, I guess.

I haven't heard from Canada at all. I ask America, but he hasn't seen much of him either.

It hurts less.

Either I've grown stronger, or have become numb to the concept of love.

Maybe both.

I mean, who's to say those aren't the same?

_ -Synonyms. I learned about those in sixth grade. Words that mean the same thing. Clean and neat. Forced and compelled. Silent and mute. Lethal and deadly._

_ I like synonyms._

_ Oh, another one._

_ Crazy and insane. Dejected and depressed. Tired.-_

I can't think of any more.


	22. Eighteen

Another day goes by. The work is almost finished. My hair is longer, now down to my butt. I have it up every day, working hard. I've grown deathly skinny, but very toned. I feel stronger, yet weaker.

"So," I start with the construction directors, "How much stuff to do is left?"

"All we need to do is…" They look at their boards.

"Add sidewalks." Gardening Guy says.

"And finish the last of the houses." Buildings Guy adds.

"Really? Everything else is finished?" I ask, surprised. They nod. "Jeez, that went by fast…"

"Only a year, Ma'am." They say in unison. I smile.

"Wow… I better go call all the new people." I decide, and they nod.

"We'll get everything finished! Don't you worry!"

200,000 calls later, my fingers are swollen and numb from pressing the buttons so much. My tongue is twisted from speaking four different languages (some of the Canadian people were French). I have a blister on the side of my face from holding my phone there the entire day. Overall, I am very, very tired. I trudge to where the workers are polishing off the houses. I had been notified earlier that the sidewalks were finished. The Island looks so much better, less wild. It has been tamed, but only enough for it to be livable in, in this modern day.

The hospital is decently sized, for a hospital. It has two sides, one on each side of the river, and the see through walls of the tunneled bridge over the river was breathtaking. The two main streets have much of the world's cuisine, just like planned. The schools are beautiful, and we have teachers from different parts of the world on standby. Our main country language is English, but some of the new arrivals can't speak it. It will be a class in the schools, and hopefully it will come quickly to the children. I smile at the thought. Plenty of judges from America would be coming here soon, along with others from Germany and Italy. They will all learn the easy laws that they all have in their countries. We will have taxes on everything but food. I hope it will be enough to let people get settled in and become Thalassian citizens.

"You know…" I sigh. "I'm tired. We're all tired. We should hit the hay." Everyone stops, and looks at me.

"We need to finish these houses!" One worker calls out.

"Yeah! We're almost done!" Another speaks. I think about it, while they grow restless.

"…Do you guys still want to work? Really?" I ask hesitantly.

"Yeah!" They shout in unison. Wow. They must love their job.

"Well… Alright. But after you all get finished, go straight to bed, you hear?" I recommend.

"Okay mom!" One replies sarcastically, and they all crack into chuckles. I laugh, and say goodnight. I'm almost back to my house, and the building directors catch me.

"Hey! Ma'am!" Building Guy calls out. I turn around.

"Yes?" I answer.

"What do you want to name your towns… And the river?" He pants out. He must have been trying to catch up to me for a while. I mentally apologize and reply.

"Hmm… I think…" My favorite book comes to me. "Ruby and… Cora?" They nod. "And the river…"

_ -I remember my mother's name. It was a rather dull name, but it was hers. I can remember when people would call, and ask for her constantly, her work never letting her come home, which was exciting for some reason-_

"Maryanne River?" They smile.

"Awesome. Now to make a map of your land!" I grin. This is awesome. My mother's name lingers in my mind. Maryanne… Maryanne what? I cannot remember her last name. Weird. Knowing me, it will come back soon enough. But for tonight, I will sleep like I haven't slept in a while. I will rest with complete knowledge that everything will be okay.

I allow myself to dream of Canada. We're sitting in a field, with flowers blooming everywhere. I lean into him, and he puts an arm around me. There are a lot of poppies, and they're beautiful. Then, they all change. They die. Sunflowers grow in their place. That's okay. I like sunflowers. They're my favorite. We sit until I wake up, just staring warmly at the beautiful yellow petals.


	23. Nineteen

It's finally finished.

Everything I have worked for.

The people have started arriving, and I point them to their homes, that are finished, courtesy of the energetic building crew. I gave them some really nice bonuses. The money from America is gone, but we have hospital supplies, and school supplies, and anything else we might need here. I hired someone to help me figure things out, and since he's really nice and has all the right qualities, I made him the first president of Thalassa. He is overjoyed, and getting everything planned out. America said these people are called our bosses. It makes sense. I need a break. Everything is going so swimmingly, that… I think I can trust my boss to keep everything in control. I hope he can. 'Cause I need a break.

I'll go visit America.

"Hey!" I happily greet over the phone.

"Hey, Tally. How's everything going?" He asks.

"Awesome! The Islands finished! I have a boss guy! Can I come visit?" I hear him laugh over the speaker.

"Sure, Tally! I haven't seen you in so long; it might be time for a get together!" He agrees. I laugh.

"I'll try flying up today, okay?"

"Sounds like a plan!"

"Oh, and ask Canada, Italy and Germany to come visit! I haven't talked to them in a while!"

"Sure thing! I'll see what I can do! I am the hero, after all!" I smile.

"See you soon."

"Later."

_My stuff is now packed, I'm ready to go. I'm standing here, outside my door. I love to come to you, to say hello! Oh I'm leaving, on a jet plane! I don't know when I'll be back again!_

I laugh to myself at the completely idiotic song I just came up with.

I get onto the plane at the airport in Thalassa, checking my bags. In four hours, I'll be back with my big brother.

America picks me up from the Californian airport. I see the sign he's holding, all bedazzled in glitter, and tackle him. He shouts in surprise and barely keeps his balance as I bear hug him.

"Hey!" I greet excitedly. He laughs.

"Hey yourself. I just got here, so I guess we're staying here, right? Italy and Germany will be in tomorrow." He informs, and I cheer.

"Canada?" I question, hoping for the best.

"Sorry… He said that he's not ready yet. I don't know what that means, and he didn't tell me. Care to enlighten?" He asks. If Canada didn't tell him, should I? Or…

"I… don't think I can. If he didn't tell you, then he might not want me to either. I'll need to call him." I grab my phone out, about to ask for Canada's number, when I stop myself. We never exchanged numbers. What if he's the type who doesn't answer the phone from unknown numbers? I could see him doing that…

"Actually, can I use your phone? My phone is, um, dead." I come up with a lie quickly, and he doesn't even question it. He hands his phone over, and I'm extremely grateful for his understanding of some sort. Scanning through his contacts, I come across Canada quickly, in between China and Belarus.

"Who's Belarus?" I ask.

"Russia's little sister. Kind of creepy, but okay, I guess." I nod, and press call, putting the phone to my ear quickly.

"'Ello?" I hear his voice. It sounds the same, maybe a little gruffer. His voice hasn't changed.

"…Canada?" I whisper. There's a sharp intake of breath.

"Thalassa?" I smile. He says my name softly, like it's some sort of condolence.

"I want to know if I can tell America about why you aren't coming to visit me. I miss you and know you say you aren't ready but he doesn't understand what not ready means-" I say it all really quickly, but he still cuts me off.

"You…" He sighs. "You can tell him if you want. I don't care." Jeez. He sounds really douche-y.

"Canada? What's up your ass?"

"Nothing, Thalassa." He replies in the same harsh tone.

"…Canada… Come visit me! Please?" I beg him. I can't hold it in.

"T-Thalassa... I-I…" His defense falters, but it quickly comes back full force. "No Thalassa. I will not come visit. I have business to take care of."

"B-But… I miss you…" I mutter in the phone.

"Goodbye, Thalassa." Click.

He's gone.

The tears threaten to spill over, but I hold them back. No. I won't cry. Coughing, I turn to America. His face is covered in concern at my face and the one-sided conversation he heard. Though brief, he knew it was painful.

"You okay? What'd he say?" He asks worriedly.

"Nothing," I reply quickly. "I can tell you. The day he left, we broke up. He said he wasn't ready to take care of me." I say it like it's no big deal. What a cruel lie, not only to America, but to me as well.

"Oh. That's why he's been acting like such a dickhead." He concludes. I nod numbly.

"Yep. Ready to go?" I ask him. He puts out an arm.

"Let's party, Mademoiselle."

We head towards the car, and the drive is quick and painless. When we arrive, it's the same house I had visited before, but now it seems… Suspicious. I'm not able to describe it, but something is different.

"New paint job?" I ask hesitantly. Something like that, right?

"No, the same color it's always been. Why?" America answers with confusion in his voice.

"Oh," _I must be going crazy or something, _"No reason. It looks different, that's all."

"Hmm. Weird." America replies. We park, and I get my stuff out of the trunk. He unlocks the door, and we walk into the dark house. Silence encases around me, like stifling smoke, drowning me in its furls. Then, suddenly, about six large shapes ambush us, and I nearly vacate my bowels.

"Welcome back!" They all shout, bear hugging me. I scream. The lights turn on, and I come face to face with six people. Two of them I know, but the rest are strangers. I see Italy next to Germany, both of them smiling, though Italy's is broader and cheekier. America smiles and goes into the kitchen, letting me take in the others by myself. They're all guys. What's with all of the male countries?

Two of them are obviously Asian. The other two look of white decent. The Asian ones resemble each other, to say at the least. One is obviously older, maybe in his late twenties. His hair is black, pulled back into a ponytail. His eyes look kind, a dark brown color. He's wearing traditional Chinese clothes. The younger one, who is a teen, has a bowl cut, and his eyes are black. He seems expressionless. He wears a plain white shirt and black pants.

The other two look nothing alike. Aside from their shared eye color, blue, they have no common physical traits. One is taller than the other. He has blonde hair, also cut bowl-style, and oval glasses. He smiles politely, and I can't help myself; I label him as a nerdy type of guy. The other, however, is shorter than the first, and looks younger, maybe in his adolescent years, with muddy brown hair. He seems lither than the other. He doesn't wear glasses.

I smile at all four of the newcomers, but then cover my face in embarrassment.

"I'm sorry," I apologize, "I don't know who any of you are…"

"B-But, you know who I am, right?" Italy demands.

"Well, yeah. But I've met you before. I don't know who the others are." I gesture towards the four mystery people, and Italy goes to stand next to Germany, who puts a protective arm around his shoulder. Aw.

"Oh, well." The older Asian man says. "I'm China." I smile.

"I'm Japan." The second one offers quietly.

"Pleased to meet you, China and Japan. I love your guys' culture. Good food from China and good horror flicks from Japan, right? I didn't get that mixed up, did I?" They grin and shake their heads, making me smile in accomplishment. I turn to the other two.

"You might not know me, but I'm Estonia." They geeky guy goes first. I remember the place instantly.

"I remember visiting there! There were so many neat art museums… And your people always had pickles… I like pickles! And there is that singer… who did some of the music in Alice in Wonderland, right?" He nods enthusiastically.

"You know my country! How awesome!" He smiles.

"A-and… I… Um… I'm Lithuania." The last one says meekly. I grin from ear to ear.

"Got to say… Your sports teams, at the Olympics. Incredible." I compliment, and he blushes. "And all of the people! John C. Reilly, Jason Sudeikis, Phil Rudd, Jerry Siegel, Hannibal Lector…"

"H-Hannibal Lector isn't a real person." Lithuania points out.

"Yeah, but it's the idea!" I retort, and he just smiles.

"So… Party time?" I question, and hear a ding from the kitchen.

"Oops! I have some dinner in the oven!" Italy says in a sing song voice, and rushes to the kitchen. We all are guided to the dining table and Italy pulls out a heaping amount of steak and pasta from the oven, placing it on the long, wooden table. This is going to be good. I'm not far off, the pasta being perfectly spiced, and the stake tender. Everyone is making mumbles and noises of deliciousness, which makes Italy beam with pride. I catch up with Italy, who explains that he's teaching Germany to cook and paint, who is in turn teaching Italy to fight. They both want to find somewhere to adopt as their own, but no such luck so far.

One thing led to another, and we're all sitting down after dinner, playing some intense poker, drinking beer after beer. We're giggling and making foul Poker plays, but not really caring. Italy is acting like a complete idiot, and Germany, able to hold his liquor better, is cleaning up after Italy and is keeping him in line. China is whining, and Japan remains emotionless, maybe a little less uptight. Lithuania and Estonia don't really change, but they aren't drinking much, either.

America somehow wins, and everyone throws a fit and leaves the room. Germany carries a sleeping Italy to a spare room downstairs, who passed out halfway through the game along with China. Japan hadn't helped China, though, and he is still sitting at the table, head planted in his folded arms. The Baltic States have disappeared, something about needing to pee. I laugh, tripping up the stairs and stumbling into my room. I've never spent much time here. I still haven't found out what's in that mysterious room downstairs in the living room. I get up to go ask America, who went to his room, when my door is flung open. I see Lithuania and Estonia. I wave, and they walk clearly over to me. They had only drunk a little, and weren't very affected by the alcohol.

"Hey, guys!" I slur, stumbling around and giggling like a mad person. Lithuania walks closer, and holds out a bottle.

"Y-you're very drunk. Drink this; it will make you feel better." Completely trusting his word, I chug the entire thing, and hand him the bottle back.

"I'm sorry it has to be like this. We are forced to do things for Mr. Russia." I am confused by what Estonia is saying. "At least little Latvia didn't have to see this. Remember now, Thalassa. We didn't want to do this. We were forced… By Russia." I stumble dazedly into Estonia, who had just finished speaking.

"It seems that he is interested in you, Thalassa, but we don't know why…" Lithuania says mildly.

"What…" I whisper. "What did you give me?"

"Just some stuff to knock you out. I don't know, something that Mr. Russia gave us." Estonia is the one that replies.

"T-Thank you for telling me." I can't feel my tongue. My body's going numb.

"No problem. I hope we can be friends when we get there and you're awake." I barely hear him, and my vision is gone.

"Where are we going?" I wonder aloud to myself.

"Russia's house." Is the last thing I heard when I fell into a deep coma.

_ -I dream of sunflowers._

_ Sunflowers, and watermelon, and strawberries._


	24. Twenty

It seems I've taken to updating, like, two chapters at a time... /).(\ I'm sorry.

I LOVE THAT SO MANY PEOPLE ARE READING THIS HOLY CRAP I KNOW IN ACTUALITY THERE ISN'T A LOT OF YOU BUUTTT. LIKE. 300 PEOPLE ARE READING THIS IT MAKES ME FEEL SORT OF ACCOMPLISHED. ^.^

Thank you all for leaving reviews! I love you all for leaving reviews! :D

Every so often, I would awaken to find myself in a different place. In the back seat of a car, with Estonia and Lithuania in the front, talking about American radio stations. On what I assumed to be a private airplane, with Estonia and Lithuania sleeping, facing me, while someone else flew the plane. In another car, but only with Lithuania. He's muttering about how one day he'll be free. I didn't wake up again after that.

_ -My dreams mainly consisted of sunflowers, watermelons, and strawberries. I would see Canada, and try running to him, but failing with some invisible barrier. Around him were trees, maple trees, I think. I would see America, who would shorten and become younger, and then I'd see Britain pick him up and walk away. It was horrible, and every time something like that would happen, I would begin crying, only to be soothed by a voice that I didn't know, and it would make me feel better-_

After the repetitive circle of dreams, I finally wake up.

The room is yellow, with a big window that shows a winter wonderland. Last I remember, it was late summer. How long have I been out? The bed I'm in has three quilts, and I'm wearing pale blue long pajamas. I should be sweating bullets, when in reality I feel all toasty and warm, making me feel… Happy. Content. In such an unfamiliar place, I am feeling completely calm! What's wrong with me?

Someone knocks on the door. When I don't answer, that someone walks in, muttering worriedly about how I hadn't awakened yet. Then he looks at me.

His eyes are blue, and his hair is blonde. He looks like Estonia, but is way too young to be him, only looking twelve or eleven. He gasps, and nearly drops the tray he is carrying. Shutting the door quickly, he rushes to me, and puts down the platter. There are potatoes, and a delicious looking sandwich, made of what I believe to be beef and cheese. My stomach instantly growls, and I know that before I ask any questions, I need to feed myself.

The young boy waits patiently as I eat my food. It's rather dull tasting, but filling. I'm stuffed when finished.

"Ready for a lot of questions?" I ask the boy. He gulps and nods.

"Where am I?" I start.

"Russia, Ma'am." He replies stiffly.

"How did I get here?"

"Y-you were taken, Ma'am."

"Will you stop calling me Ma'am?"

"Uh," He stutters, "Yes."

"Now, how long was I out?"

"About a week."

"Not bad. Who are you?"

"My name is Latvia. I am the youngest Baltic state." I nod.

"I remember visiting there. Very pretty scenery."

"T-thank you."

"Now, when will I get to go home?"

"When Russia is finished with you."

"Oh… Alright. How would one escape? I kind of need to get home…"

"You wouldn't even dare to try. Russia would murder you." He shudders.

"Hum. Okay. When will I get to meet this alleged 'Russia'? I am rather curious and eager to meet him now." Latvia's eyes widen.

"He will visit when he visits. He's seen you sleeping. He knows all of your weaknesses. You do not want to be eager to meet him." Latvia advises, shivering in fear.

"Why not?" I wonder.

"Russia may seem kind and nice, but he's very possessive and manipulative and will crush you with a single glance!" He whispers harshly. I flinch.

"…W-why?" I ask. "Why would he possibly be like that? He is the biggest country in the world, with some of the best architecturally advanced buildings!"

"War is very hard on people's minds. Even the strongest become the weakest within battle." He avertedly explains. Thinking about all of the bloodshed that has happened involving Russia, I understand.

"Poor Russia." I mumble, and Latvia nearly slaps me across the face.

"What are you thinking!? You mustn't let your guard down when relating to Russia! You cannot feel sorry for that feared beast." Latvia whispers, looking around to make sure no one is around to hear his outspoken gesture. Confused, I nod dumbly. He rises from his seat.

"I will inform everyone that you have awakened." He resolves, and leaves before I can thank him for the food and information.


	25. Twenty-One

The second to visit me is Lithuania.

"Hey." He says softly. I nod in greeting, not wanting to talk to him or Estonia.

"I'm sorry. I didn't want to kidnap you. Neither did Estonia. We both want out of this ourselves. If we ever happen to find a way out, we'll help you too! It's just that Russia's so scary…" He speaks really quickly, and I barely catch what he put out.

"It's… okay. I'm not really mad at you guys, just… Disappointed, I guess. I mean, I didn't think you would do something like that. I thought you were better people." I reply stiffly, emotionless. His face falls.

"We are! We're just…" He trails off.

"Just what? Complete and utter pussies?" I taunt.

"We're manipulated. We're forced to run on Russia's impulses. We have to follow his orders." He reveals quietly.

"Or else what?" I ask. The only response I get is a shudder, quaking Lithuania from his hair to his feet. He pales, and his eyes unfocus, and goose bumps arise on his arms.

"No…" He whispers. "No… No. No. No. No. No!" I slap him. He holds perfectly still, unblinking. Then he falls to the floor, passed out.

I'm worried for myself now.

Lithuania woke up after what I thought was half an hour and I quickly explained how he was claiming he was tired when he visited, and just passed out from fatigue. He buys the story, not remembering what really happened. After going through the rundown of my room, he leaves.

I check out the rest of the room. Pictures, surprisingly of sunny places and – of all things – sunflowers, adorn the yellow walls. The floor is cold and wooden, and there are three doors. One I know for sure as the door out of the room, and I check another door, next to the bed. It's a closet, full of old looking clothes. They're female clothes, and range from things from last few years to the last millennium. Fancy dresses with frills and petticoats, to peasant rags, to poodle skirts… Wow. Deciding to play dress up later, I open the other door, to the right of the bed, and enter a bathroom. The walls are white, and the toilet looks a little mediocre. It seems to have all the bathing necessities, and I decide to bathe and change my clothes and give myself the full Monty, as it is called.

I quickly, ahem, do my potty business, and hop into the shower, finally cleaning my hair and shedding dead skin. I notice sores and scabs on my back from lying around so much – bed sores – and my hair is knotted and out of control. I shampoo and conditioner it with store bought hair stuff, and shave my legs and under arms quickly, trying to save time in case someone else visited my room. I leave, and decide on going retro, pulling out a pair of faded bellbottoms and an orange long sleeve with flared sleeves. I stay barefoot, now just lying on the bed. I have nothing to do.

Thank God (sort of) that Estonia chooses to walk in at this moment.

"Hey! You're awake! That's good! I see you've showered, and changed… Using Ukraine's and Belarus's old clothes!" Pointing out the obvious must be an icebreaker for him.

"Hah, yeah. I felt I would have time to do this, and… Yeah." I explain, and he nods.

"I… Heard what you said to Lithuania. About being disappointed at us, and everything. I want you to know that I didn't want to do that-"

"But you were forced by Russia? Don't worry, I know. Lithuania said the exact same thing." I cut in, and, surprised, he nods.

"I also came in to see how you're settling in, and that Russia should be stopping by soon." He says warily.

"Oh…" I trail off, suddenly nervous. After all I have heard from America, Germany, Lithuania, and Latvia, it's finally affecting me. _But,_ I now think, _why am I afraid? He's nothing but a man. I bet I have taken down bigger, stronger people than him! _"Well, tell him I'm waiting." I reply after my internal rant.

You should see the look on Estonia's face. Priceless.

"O-oh! Um, a-alright." He stutters like crazy. "And, if you don't mind me asking, where I could buy the drugs you're on?" I laugh.

"Why would you think I'm on drugs?"

"Aren't you scared of Russia?"

"Well, maybe a little, but I know he is nothing but what I am." We ponder this quietly for a moment or two, and he finally stands up.

"I… I must be off. I need to notify Russia that you are waiting for him."

"Tell him to bring food. I'm starving." I request, and he leaves, letting me soak in the silence and peace in the room once more.


	26. Twenty-Two

It has been at least six hours.

I have alternated from sleeping, walking around, and just sitting on the bed. My hair is wavy from air drying. The clock has spun, the two hands dancing with each other as time progressed. Latvia came in to bring me a snack, cookies. When I asked who made them, he said Lithuania. I was nervous that he had drugged me – again – but nothing has happened so far, so I guess I'm safe.

There were a few books brought to me, but most of them were in Russian, which I only know the basics of. The only book in English was _Great Expectations_ by Charles Dickens, which I have proceeded to call 'Brit Lit'. Like 'Chick Lit', but British. There's fighting, and romance, and really big words. Overall, a type of book you'd never read for fun. It was rather boring, really.

I watched as birds twittered outside, and snow fell, and trees blew in the wind, and I wanted to go outside very badly, but knew they wouldn't let me. I was, and am, confined to this room until Russia comes to see me. Maybe longer.

It has long since grown dark outside, and my dinner was brought to me. It was some type of stew, with beef, elbow macaroni, and carrots. It tasted bland, but once again, filling. Their cuisine over here is made to be like this for hard working people and poor families. I should know. I spent time here.

I recall a time when going out into the snow was fun.

_-It was winter, and Christmas was ether just around the corner or just passed. The snow was always white, and I would make snowmen and snow angles. Cousins, I think. I had cousins. There were two boys, and I would have snowball fights with them. We would fight all day, and come in for dinner completely soaked. We would always have hot chocolate, provided by my mother. I remember her voice. It was light, and airy, always in a sing song type of timbre-_

I missed my mother, but knew she wouldn't come save me. I need to get out myself.

I stand up, and walk to the window, looking down on all of the land. We are on a hillside, with lots of trees and a little creek winding through them. I sigh at the beauty. I look up at the sky, which has darkened to a midnight blue. The moon is full, and the stars are different. I'm still trying to find some similarity between the stars here, the stars in Italy, the stars in America, and the stars at home. My searches so far have come up fruitless. Sighing angrily, I go to sit on the bed, and find someone in my room.

"Hallo," He says in a thick accent, only his voice making me quake in my skin. I easily know that this voice is the same one that calmed me in my dreams. I'm not afraid; I have grown numb to the fact that this man could kill me. I already know who this is, the man of the hour; the man I have been waiting for nearly all day.

Russia has finally arrived.

He isn't what I thought he'd be, yet he's exactly what I should've assumed.

He's really tall, for one thing. Taller than France; taller than America; taller than Germany, who's the tallest guy I've met so far, at six feet. This guy immediately trumps him, probably going five inches higher than that. He has very blonde hair, as blonde as Germany's, almost white. Instead of it being slicked back, though, it is disarrayed, in a completely hot manner. His skin's pale, but not sickly pale. He definitely gets out a lot, but it's not very sunny here. He seems really muscular under his beige jacket, unbuttoned to show a plain white button down.

His eyes are gray, but not that blue gray color that everyone calls gray. He has no trace of blue in his retinas. No trace of color at all. He's wearing jeans, and winter boots. There's a purple-gray scarf draped loosely around his neck, and I realize that his eyes do have a bit of color in them; somehow there's purple in them. He smiles at me, but it's harsh. Like a young child's mischievous grin, when it knows it's doing something naughty, but doesn't care. I am immediately unnerved by the large man.

"Well," He smiles wider, "I find it humorous how I've met you, yet you've yet to meet me. Hum." He seems very easy going, but there's something else hidden under his shell. I don't know how to describe it. I'm getting goose bumps.

"Yes, it seems we do have some introducing to do." I reply, and stick a hand out. "My name is-"

"Thalassa, or Tally Jones, depending on who you ask." He answers for me. "You live on your little Island, in between Australia and America, which has just become a country for itself. It's doing pretty well, actually. Already have two hundred thousand, maybe more?" Surprised he knew all of this, I nod.

"How'd you know?" I ask.

"My minions." He replies easily. Lithuania, Estonia, and Latvia.

"I won't be one of them, will I?" I question uncertainly.

"Do you want to join Mother Russia?" He asks hopefully, puppy dog face activating.

"I'd love to, but… Maybe in a few years. I need to check out all of the worlds cultures, and if I find any of them suitable, then maybe I'll consider joining them. If I like you, then I will."

"Hmm. Alright. Russia can wait, and knows that if you don't choose him, he'll choose you." He grins 'innocently'. Most people would be unnerved. I laugh. His eyes widen, but go back to normal quickly.

"Well, Russia, it seems you know a lot about me. Do I get to learn about you?"

"No. Russia doesn't do that. The unknown is one of the most known fears."

I sit on my bed. Russia sits in a chair near me.

"So," I start, "What's the plan?"

"Hmm?" He says, not knowing what I mean.

"What are you going to do to me?" I try.

"Nothing. You just get to come visit me by force." He replies. There's no sarcasm in his voice.

"Oh. House rules?"

"Well, I would find it great if you would leave the room to eat, and visit, and explore. You are not allowed to leave the house, but if you want to, you can have either Estonia or me accompany you outside. It gets very pretty in the fall here." He remarks, and I nod, remembering my trip here.

"If you know so much about me, what was my past life like?" I ask, wanting to see if anyone knew about my memory problem.

"Well, you used to be human, an American. You went sailing, and found your Island, and stayed there." He says.

"Oh? So you don't know about my earlier visit to your country?" I reply slyly, and he perks up.

"What? You shouldn't lie; it's not a good habit." He immediately denies.

"Oh, I've been here. Your architecture is breathtaking, but you lack warm seasons. I lived in Kazan, but only for about half a year. I have lived everywhere, in fact." I explain.

"No. You-you're lying." He says.

"Then I moved to my Island, and have stayed there for a while. I'm what now, thirty-something? I've lost count. My memory is not very good." He shakes his head at my story.

"No."

"Why?" I retort to his blunt answer. "I have to say, I liked it here. It was one of the closest places that I'd ever felt at home at without, you know, being at home. Did you know that even America, my birthing country, was not home for me?" I ask him. He flushes.

"…How come I did not know this?" He whispers.

"You may know my weaknesses; you may have seen me sleep. You may now know how my country came to be. But there are things from my story, about me, _parts _of me, which even _I_ don't know." I reveal. He is silent, watching me with his purple colored eyes.

"What are you thinking?" I ask him, changing the subject smoothly.

"I'm thinking about why you're thinking about what I'm thinking about. What are you thinking about?" He replies.

"If your eye color is real." His face is, once again, surprised.

"Yeah." His face is back to normal. "I have the same eye color as my older sister. My younger, however, has more blue in hers." I stand up, and walk over to him, kneeling to his side.

"Is it okay if I take a closer look?" I ask awkwardly. He nods, and I proceed to lean in, getting a good look at his eyes while he glanced at mine. The outer ring is purple, which grays and darkens as it gets closer to the pupil. After a few moments of intense staring in each other's eyes, he blinks, and shoves me away.

"I have to go." He leaves quickly, flustered. Not as scary as I thought. _But, then again,_ I think with a shudder, _you never know._

I totally almost left you on a cliffhanger. ALMOST. But, I'm nicer than that, so here you go. A lot is going to be revealed in this part of the story about Tally. SCHTAY TEUNED. :D


	27. Twenty-Three

That night I slept soundly.

I wake up a little before sunrise, my body not being completely in sync with the time zone, and I decide to take a walk. Getting up and sneaking out was easy, but I don't know any of the layout plans of the house. When I leave my room, I enter another room with a rug, couch, and coffee table littered with Russian car and gossip magazines. I creep down a hallway, and find a dining room. There are two diner-type doors that would separate an eating room from a cooking room, and I have a peculiar urge to cook. I'm so weird.

Walking into the kitchen, I see no one. Perfect. I get to experiment.

I get situated with where everything is, and pull out cinnamon, sugar, flour, syrup, eggs, milk…

When I'm finished, the sun is up, and the finished product is… I can't even describe it. What I did was make sugar dough, rolled it into balls, soaked each ball in syrup, and layered the balls into a big bowl, putting it into the oven when the bowl was full. Everything came out warm and sticky and cooked, and tasted delicious.

"What are you doing!?" I hear a yell from behind me, and realize I can't explain myself other than saying,

"Making breakfast." I can't even call it that. I'm covered in flour and syrup, still in my pajamas, barefoot, with my hair ratted and messy.

"What?" I finally acknowledge who it is. Lithuania is standing behind me, face flushed in annoyance, like I'm some little kid.

"Try some! I'm not even sure what it is, but yum!" I give him a sticky ball of cooked sugar dough, and he looks at it in his pale, ungloved hand which he'll have to wash after eating.

"What… is it?" He mutters.

"I don't even know. I made it and they're delicious though." He slowly nibbles it.

"Hmm… Not too bad… Not bad at all, in fact…" He murmurs in between bites.

"What's happening in here?" I hear another voice, and Estonia enters.

"Taste testing my cooked product." I explain, and he plucks one out and swiftly bites it.

"Wow! What do you call it?" He exclaims.

"I don't know. It tastes good, right?"

"Yeah!" He replies, taking another.

"Are… You guys meeting without me?" I hear a weak voice - another person - and greet Latvia.

"Try one!" Estonia tells him, and, completely trusting Estonia, Latvia takes a dough ball and licks it. He bites it.

"Yum! I love it!" We all are standing in the kitchen, enjoying deliciousness, when the fifth and final person enters the room.

"What am I missing out on?" Russia asks. Estonia smiles lightly, cautious. Lithuania pales and backs up. Latvia just plain leaves. Russia is unfazed by the others wariness of him. I hold out the bowl.

"Try it! I just made them! They're good." I tell him, and he pulls one out and gnaws on it gently. When it's gone, he nods.

"Very well done, Thalassa. Both delicious and filling. Good job." He smiles at me, and I blush a little. He laughs and leaves. Estonia smirks knowingly. Lithuania gulps and volunteers to help clean up with me.

"So, um, how are things going, Lithuania?" I ask while doing dishes, trying to strike up conversation with him.

"Oh, things are fine. Working for Russia is hard work, but eh. I'm used to it." He explains, and I glance at him.

"You get used to being a forced slave?" I ask him. He nods.

"You get used to things like that."

"Should you?" I counter, and we ponder this as we finish cleaning.

"Will you show me around?" I ask him, and he nods.

"Sure." We walk into the dining room. "Dining room." Taking a left, we enter the sitting room, which he points out as the earlier. Entering a doorway, we come to a hallway with four doors, including the one to my room. He says the other rooms are his and the others. Leaving this hallway and entering another one, he shows me the door to Russia's room, a bathroom, and countless other rooms that are too dizzying to remember. We finally reach the last room.

"And this," Lithuania remarks, pushing the door open, "Is the art room." I gasp.

On one side of the room, the floor is littered with paper, dried paint, and painting utensils. There are crayons, markers, and colored pencils poking out of scattered jars on top of tables and shelves. It's extremely messy. On the other side, cameras are lined on the walls. Tripod standers, pocket cameras, and heavy photography cameras were in the bunch. There was a computer below, and I knew it was to get the pictures onto the computer.

"Wow…" I say, utterly amazed. I open a drawer next to the computer desk to find cords to charge and cords to plug into the computer and cords to transfer from one camera to another and cords for pretty much everything but the kitchen sink.

"Russia… He likes art?" I ask, and he bobs his head.

"Yeah. We all do. I like painting, while Estonia and Latvia like photography. Russia likes both." He explains. _Yeah, of course Russia likes drawing and pictures,_ I think to myself. _I know exactly why too._

"Oh. Is it okay… if I use this stuff?" I ask, and Lithuania nods in approval.

"Fine with me. Go at it." He confirms, and I set out for the left side of the room, with the painting supplies. Starting with a fresh new easel, I grab blue, white, and black. I also get water, and a few paintbrushes. I start off slowly, gently, trying to urge the right shapes and colors out of the many hues of blue I create. Simple, long strokes of water followed by the color. My body takes over, and my mind shuts down. I hear Lithuania try to talk to me, but my mind is blank. I don't know what he's saying, or how to talk, let alone respond. I feel my strokes get quicker, stronger, hurried. Whooshing strokes, fierce grumbling, and when I come to, the painting is finished.

It's a sailboat on water, with mountains in the back ground. It's all blue, except for the sailboat, which I never colored, and parts of the sky, which has a strange texture on its surface. The sailboat is lonely, and the water is quaking. It's dark near the bottom, a shade of blue that could be more accurately described as a shade of black. The boat is gently riding the waves, barely staying afloat in the rippling water. It frightens me, yet reminds me.

_-It was an April day, rainy and cloudy and depressing. I was walking home-_

"Thalassa?" Lithuania thankfully makes me lose concentration, and I turn quickly from the painting, not wanting to be reminded again.

"Can… you get rid of it for me?" I ask him.

"But why? It's so pretty, and I think you should-"

"Please. Throw it away. Burn it. Cut it up. Anything. I-I can't…" I plead, and he relents.

"…Fine. But I'm showing Russia before then."

I don't answer. I'm already on my way to my room.


	28. Twenty-Four

I haven't moved yet. I have been sitting on the bed knees pulled up, thinking absently to try and get my mind off of… _It._

_ -The toy boat floated down the water canal to the gaping man hole, so much rain… The poor boy was chasing after it, I wanted to help him… The way no one helped me… I fell, everywhere bleeding… He got his boat back, but left me, hurt and crying and sore because all of my old scars and scabs opened… I won't trust anyone ever again to help me, I said over and over again, but knew easily I would help anyone in need, the same way no one helped me-_

"Blue skies, happy days, snow falling, sun shining…" I whisper lightly, describing the outside weather. I read more of the stupid book. Someone dies, not sure who. I leave to room and return with a can of pears. I eat them all in about half an hour. Someone knocks on the door.

"Thalassa?" I barely hear them, my mind being so forced and concentrated on other things.

"Come in." I reply, and Russia walks in, ducking so he doesn't hit his head on the door frame. "You're really tall, Russia."

"…Yeah." He agrees. "You're decently tall, for a girl. I guess. Ukraine is about the same height as you."

"Will I get to meet her soon?" I ask, and he nods.

"If she wishes to come and visit, yes."

"Will I get to leave soon?" I ask. He smiles, but his eyes darken lightly.

"Why do you want to leave to badly? Do you not like it here?" He retorts plaintively.

"It's okay here… But I have important business to take care of at home, and America's probably worried…" I explain.

"No he isn't. I called him, and told him you were visiting me."

"By force?"

"No, that I had invited you and you agreed." He replies. "Do you think I am that stupid?"

"No! Y-you're really smart, compared to me, anyways…" I sigh. "I can't remember what my hometown was in my childhood. I am really daft. I…" I trail off, then whisper slightly. "I can't remember anything from my old life. I-It's starting to come back, from meeting you and Germany and America and everyone… But… it's still really foggy. I'm so ridiculous, compared to you. You other countries have everything all together, and… I don't." I don't know what possessed me to say all that. Russia's heated eyes soften, and he sits at the end of my bed.

"No one… No country has it all together… Most of us have money problems, and all of our bosses are strict bastards, and we all have our downs. You are a lot better than the rest of us, I believe, because of the fact that after no more than ten years, you are completely set up with towns and laws and your own boss and everything. Don't think you're alone, you're not. It's… we're all in the same boat. It's… It's us against the world." He laughs. I join in quietly.

"Really? Is that true?" I ask.

"One hundred percent." He smiles. _Don't puss out, Thalassa._

Braving myself, I fling myself forward and hug him.

"Thanks, Russia." I mumble into his shoulder, since I hugged him from the side. He tenses.

"N-N-No problem…" He mutters. And pushes me away, running out of the room.

_I don't… understand._ He's this big, intimidating guy who is extremely tall and muscular. He has everyone wary of him. Yet, when I swallow my fear and strange dislike for this man, I end up scaring him.

_ Dislike? Well, no wonder I dislike him. He kidnapped me. I shouldn't forgive him for that._

_ No. I won't._

_ I will escape._

_ And I know exactly how to do it._


	29. Twenty-Five

_ The story is called 'Escape Plan'. Its beginning is an invitation._

I knock on his door.

"Yes?" He answers, accent still unfailing at giving me goose bumps.

"Uh… I would like to go outside, if that's alright. I can't seem to find Estonia anywhere." I would say I made up an excuse for why I want him to go with me instead of Estonia, but in reality, I actually looked for Estonia, and couldn't find him.

"Ah. Alright. Do you have a jacket on?" Russia asks, and I laugh.

"Nope." He opens the door.

_The prologue to this story was a wardrobe change_. I now wear a knee-length cream dress with spaghetti straps and light blue and pink flowers on it. Under it I wear a long sleeved pink shirt, completely plain colored, and pale blue leggings. With some brown ankle boots and a cream colored beanie (All of which I found in the closet, strangely) I was completely matched up. He gives me a once over, and relents.

"Fine. Let us go." He leads me to the back door, and I gasp. Everything is frosted over, sparkly and glittering. I take a careful step, but my carefulness is dim-witted, because with that first step, I fall. Luckily enough, Russia catches me under my armpits.

"Careful, there, Thalassa. Don't want you to bruise your bum." He remarks, and I blush. Righting my standing position, I take another step, and this time, I don't fall. Russia follows me very closely, giving me a calming smile. Snow begins to slowly dust the ground, and Russia tightens his scarf around the neck.

"Aren't you cold?" He asks. My skin twitches.

"No. I have lived here before." I answer, and he chuckles.

"This is me you're walking on. I know that it is cold, even for me, someone who has lived here since… Well, ever."

"I have lived here before," I repeat, "For that half a year, I didn't have the best of a living situation. My home was the streets, and I only had a thin cardigan. I got used to the cold, welcoming it. My body is numb to frigid temperatures." I reply mechanically. "Besides, I'm a naturally warm person. I'm like a werewolf, without the transformations and extra body hair and hunger for uncooked flesh." I smile at my joke. He doesn't.

"No one should have to get used to such a horrible thing. Especially at the age you were of… What was it?"

"…Fourteen and a half to fifteen." I reply after much thought. He nods.

"Exactly what I mean. You were a young child. You shouldn't have had to dealt with that."

"Hey," I say, stepping closer and pulling up my sleeve, "Feel my skin." I want to show him the fact that I'm so warm it surprises me I'm not steaming. His hand slowly grazes my forearm, and he exhales in surprise.

"So… warm…" He mutters, and pulls me in for a hug. Even with the big bulky coat on; even with the thick pants; even with an undershirt and boots and scarf; he's incredibly cold. Unlike him, I'm not frightened by the touch of others, so my body doesn't stiffen. I hug him back, my head going to his chest. "I-I'm…" He whispers. "I'm always… so… cold…."

_ The story. How will it conclude?_

_ Will there be a happy ending, myself getting back to my home?_

_ Will it be a sad ending? With myself – or worse, someone I care about – dying?_

_ It seems I need to make a choice. Such plot twists annoy me, but they're to be presumed, right?_

_ Canada…_

_ It doesn't hurt anymore._

_ I'm ready._

"I…" I start, but my voice fails me, so I try again. "If you want… I can help you stay warm… But you have to be okay with it, and you have to trust me. Okay?"

He smiles, and it turns into a boyish smirk.

"Alright. Deal."

"Are you sure?" I question. _God, I hate having to be the experienced one with this. But maybe…_

"I'm sure. And I know what you're going to do, too. To try and keep me warm?" I smile at his presumption. _Yes, maybe, just maybe…_

"Oh really? What?" I reply.

"This." He says, and kisses me. The snow is falling, melting on my skin. I feel so happy, so elated. I kiss him back.

_-They crowd around me, smirking slyly, like foxes. "This will only take a second, pretty girl, then you can be on your way." One says, and shoves me to the ground. I'm screaming, and trying to get away, but the bind my mouth with a rag. One by one, they each unzip themselves and thrust their shaft into me, and I wail, tears streaming down my face. I need to get away. I need to run. I'm stuck. They all smile and wipe their sticky entrails on my face and body. They hit me, make my entire body numb, before leaving me against a garbage bin. I feel dirty. So, so dirty-_

I shove him away.

There will be a happy ending. I kick him in the chest, he falls onto his back, and I run for the closest forest I can find. I keep running. Running. Running. I don't hear him chasing me.

_ -I'm in second grade, and today's field day. I'm standing in line for racing. Mostly boys and one other girl are going against me. I hear the teacher shout, 'go', and I'm off, sprinting for the finish line. My feet move in a pulsating rhythm, as I stride faster and faster, going past fourth, third, second, first. I cross the finish line-_

I win.


	30. Twenty-Six

Night has fallen, and now I am incredibly frigid. My body has not yet completely regained the familiarity of the icy cold of Russia.

I have completely forgotten of what memory had triggered my running. I find birds to sing to, making me feel like a princess. And then I hear it; the sound of a sad animal wailing. Motherly instincts now kick in, and I follow the sound urgently, finding two rogue cats.

It's obvious their both female, I could hear their high pitched yowls from nearly half a mile away. One is beating on the other. The weaker one is white, with brown and yellow patches, and green eyes. One ear is missing. It seems rather a stupid cat, for it doesn't notice me, though I'm practically right in front of it. Its yowls sound apologetic, yet humored. _Since when can I understand cat?_

"You will pay, you filthy whore!" The upper one says. _Yeah. I'm delusional._

"I-I didn't mean to, Millie! I thought you had gotten your own food!" The weak one replies.

The upper, meaner one is all black, with white paws and a white-tipped tail. It is facing away from me, but it has both ears, unlike the other. I take another step, and they both turn to face me. I see the black cat's face.

It looks normal, with a blue eye.

Yes, eye. Where the right eye should be, there is a stitched up line, jaggedly covering the eye socket. The only blue eye stares harshly at me, and I shrink back.

"What do you want, human?" The black one asks.

"She could be friendly; maybe she's nice and will feed us!" The second one suggests.

"Uh… I think I'm hearing things… Are you two talking?" I ask. They stand up quickly.

"Wait… you can hear us?" The white one asks.

"Quiet Tally! I'll do the talking!" The black one orders. _Tally?_

"Yeah… I can hear the white colored one more than you, uh, ma'am?" I try. The white one, Tally, looks happily at me, but the black one glares.

"You must be Greek, if you can hear more than one cat." The black one says.

"What?" I'm so cold and confused.

"My name is Millie," The black cat, now known as Millie, says. "And this is- well, you should know her name, if she is your chosen cat. That's why you can hear here louder, after all."

"Yeah,  
she has the same name as me, if I overheard your guy's chattering correctly. My name is Thalassa, or Tally for short." I introduce politely, and Tally-cat walks over to me and rubs her chin on my leg.

"Will you feed us? Pretty please? If not both of us, then just Millie, because I ate earlier." Tally-cat meows. I fall to my knees in front of the two cats.

"I'm so sorry, if I had any food to give, I'd give it to you two! But… I left in such a hurry, I didn't even think to pack…" I apologize, then think about the story. "Wait, what am I saying? Of course I have food! I'll give you two some!" I reach into my dress, and pull out the wrinkled bag of saved food I had brought. Opening it up, I find some squished bread, cookies, and apples. I look at it, then at them.

"Are you able to eat bread? Or cookies? I didn't really pack for cats…" I blush.

"Oh, it's quite alright!" Tally-cat laughs, if cats can do such a thing. Yeah, I'm definitely crazy. She gnaws on half of a cookie, and I offer the other half to Millie, who resentfully takes it.

"So, how does this work? If she's my 'chosen cat', as you put it, then what do I do?" I ask.

"You take her home with you." Millie speaks.

"Oh… Do you have a chosen human, Millie?" I ask.

"No, I just live with Tally." She replies.

"Well, then I'll take you both, okay?" I suggest, and Millie looks at me, shocked.

"Why take me? I'm not yours. Only Tally is." Millie objects.

"But that would leave you alone. Even I know that loneliness is madness." I comment, and Millie shakes her head roughly.

"No! I won't go!"

"I have food."

"No."

"A nice warm home."

"No!"

"She'll come." Tally-cat says. "I'll make her. She won't say no if I want her to." We Tally's both look at Millie, who lowers her head, not denying the accusation.

"Then it's settled! When I return home, I will bring both of you!" I smile, and they look at me like I'm some crazy person. Which I am, to be able to understand cats.

"Oh, and did I mention the fact that I'm a country?"

"So," Millie says, "You're like Russia-cat's owner?" I nod.

"Yeah. The newest of the countries, in fact. I got completely set up just about a month ago…"_ It's been a month? Yeah, it seems that I've been living with Russia for about two weeks…_

I scoot closer to the fire I had built. It was very hard to find dry land, and then to get wood that wasn't soggy. Not to mention the fact that it was troublesome to start the fire, but I brought a lighter, which helped. Looking up, I found that the sun was starting to rise. I had to keep moving, away from here.

I walk, the cats follow me, bickering lightly. I found out that they were sisters, and had been hurt as kittens, causing their missing body parts. It soon becomes noon, and the more I walk, the less snow there is. I must be moving south or something. But that's incorrect. The sun moves to the east, and I'm heading the opposite way, which means I'm heading west. But… what's west to Russia? I find a road, and begin walking. No cars pass me or the cats. I wonder how peculiar I look. I come across a sign.

_ Km to Belarus: 26_

_ Km to Ukraine: 84_

_ Km to Moscow: 103_

After reading the sign in my discombobulated Russian, I figure my options. I can't stay in Russia, which makes Moscow out of the question. Ukraine is too far away… Belarus it is. I continue walking.

It became evening quickly, and I find another sign.

_ 'Welcome to Belarus'_

I pass the sign wearily.

It is now nighttime. I find a house. I nearly cry tears of joy. I trudge up to the door, hoping I don't look a complete mess. It opens, and I find a girl who looks the age of fifteen. Her long dirty blonde hair is pulled back in a ponytail, and she has blue eyes. She wears a simple white long sleeve with long, billowy sleeves, and black jeans.

"Yes?" She asks politely.

"U-Uh… I-I…" I don't know what to say. "I-I just ran away… And if we could stay here for the night… It'd be great…" She gives me a once over, stopping at my clothes.

"Yeah. You three can stay the night. It's not like I know who you are." I smile greatly.

"Thank you so very much! I won't be a bother! You don't even have to feed me or anything!" She opens the door wider for me and the two cats, letting us into the house.

"So, what's your name, stranger?" She asks me.

"My name is Tally." I couldn't tell if she was a country or not, so I spoke simply.

"Now, Tally, want me to tell you what I know about you so far?" Confused, I shrug.

"Well, so far, I know that you came from Russia. From Russia's house, more specifically. You're wearing my old clothes, and if you came from Russia's house, you know about the whole country thing. So either you're a slave of his, or a country. Which is it?"

"I'm a country, Ma'am."

"Good. I also know you must have been raised by Greece or be Greek to have cats, and understand both of them. You said you ran away, so I'm guessing that you were kidnapped by him, but escaped somehow?" I nod. So far, she's right with everything.

"And English is obviously your first language. You haven't spoken any other tongue." I blush.

"I know French and Spanish fluently, and can partially speak Russian, Chinese, Japanese, German, and Swedish."

"Ah. And why were you running from big brother?" She asks. "He's really nice, and kind, and hot…" I raise an eyebrow confusedly.

"…Hot? Aren't you his little sister?" I question.

"Yeah. But he's so dreamy… I know we'll be married someday…" She just went full psycho.

"Um… Alright…" I get back on task. "It wasn't that I'm afraid of Russia, he seems really nice. But I need to get back home to my country. I'm not done completely setting up, and I need to get some stuff together…" I say, and she nods.

"Do you have money?" She asks.

"Yeah, I wouldn't just run away and leave everything there."

"I'll drop you off at an airport tomorrow. There will be a private flight for you to take back to your country of… Thalassa, was it?" I nod again.

"Yes. This is very kind of you, thank you." She shrugs.

"Hey, I know what it's like to be kidnapped at a bad time. Was he treating you rudely?" She asks smugly. I think about it.

"Actually, not really. He would listen to me talk when he visited my room, and volunteered to show me around outside, which led to my escape. He complimented my cooking, and… He wasn't really all that bad as everyone says he is." I comment, and she freezes.

"…Oh. Yeah." Belarus answers stiffly. "He isn't very easy to understand. He has problems with showing his expressions."

"Huh. I kind of figured that. A lot of countries have that problem… And they also have really cute accents… And they're all mostly guys…" I think aloud. "I'm really happy to meet you."

"What?" She answers, surprised. "Why?"

"Well, I now have full belief that I'm not the only girl country out there. I have you now." I answer.

"W-well…" She blushes, but gets angry. "I'm not the only one! You shouldn't have to deal with me! Go visit Ukraine or Hungary or Belgium or Seychelles or Wy!" I raise an eyebrow.

"Why? I can come visit you!" I give her a cheeky smile. She groans.

"I'm going to bed. The guest bedroom is upstairs to the right." She sighs and walks upstairs.

"I'm really glad to meet you! I hope we can be friends!" I yell, and she grunts in response. I smile happily, and go to take a shower downstairs. The water was surprisingly warm, burning my frozen toes and fingers. I get out, raking my now moveable fingers through my hair. Using a brought hair band, I tied my hair into a knot at the back of my head and use pajamas that were (mysteriously) left out. _Maybe Belarus was going to take a shower, but then I showed up._

That makes me feel really bad now.

Ignoring the simplistic feeling, I walk upstairs, and turn to the right door. The bed is creaky and old, but very comfortable, with many different pillows and blankets. I pass out quickly.


	31. Twenty-Seven

"Big brother! Hello!" I hear from downstairs, rousing the cats and I from our sleep. _'Big brother?'_

"Hello, Belarus. I was wondering if you have happened to see a girl who looks a little older than you? She has blonde hair, and green eyes?" I hear Russia downstairs, and my entire body stiffens.

"No brother, I haven't. Why?" She lies easily. Silence sounds throughout the house, and I hold my breath.

"…Now Belarus," He says coyly, "You shouldn't lie. It's not a good habit."

_Holy fuck. I need a plan B. Now._

"I'm not lying, brother! Why would I lie to you?" She answers, rather sadly.

"I don't know your reason for hiding her," He comments, "But I will find her in this house, if I have to tear it apart, brick by measly brick." I hear the anger in his voice, haunting and taunting and irrevocably frightening. _I now know why they're all afraid of him. It's horrible. I'm so scared._

"I'm hiding no one! If you don't believe me, go look through all the rooms!" She says. _What? Does she even remember that I'm here?_ I scan the room quickly, and find a desk, with nothing but a piece of paper on it. Careful not to make the bed creak, I stealthily roll out of the bed, and crawl to the table, picking up the paper scrap.

_'Dear Thalassa_

_ Good morning! I will be taking you down to the airport at noon. Be sure to be packed with everything you have, and I'll make you some food!_

_ I don't really like you very much, but, seeing how much Russia has grown to liking you, I am rather relieved that you don't find a liking in him as well, and am more than willing to help you because of this. He's mine! 3_

_ Keep this paper after you're done with it. Don't lose it. More importantly, don't let Russia find it, or he'll have my head. But I'll give it to him, if he wants it. I'll do anything for him._

_ Belarus_

_ P.S. If Russia happens to come here, there's a secret door behind the dresser. It has wheels, so it won't make noises when pushing it aside. Go to Ukraine's house. She'll help you from then on.'_

The dresser was very easy to push away, revealing a wooden door, the same type of wood as the dresser, making it hidden. I open the door slowly, and gesture for the two cats to go ahead of me, since they have night vision and all that.

"Stairs," Tally-cat whispered. I smile in reply, moving the dresser back into place, and shutting the door, leaving me in total darkness. I pull out my phone, and shine the light onto the floor ahead of me. I hear the muffled door to my bedroom door opening, and tense, but continue downstairs.

When I reach the end of the stairs, there is a long hallway, lit by torches. Really old fashioned.

I find another door, this one with rounded corners, and push it open.

To find candles lit, sunflowers everywhere, and a big picture of Russia. He's smiling his childlike smile, purple eyes alight.

_Well. Alright._ I gasp a little, and back out slowly, running the way I hadn't just came from. There are more stairs, where Tally-cat and Millie are waiting for me.

"Took you long enough." Millie huffs, and we head up the stairs, opening the door at the top of them to find ourselves at the border.

_'Welcome to Ukraine'_

I take that knowledge, and with it, I head towards the sign, and the house I see past it.

I know that because they're sisters, Belarus will have had to of called Ukraine about this, and I know Ukraine will help me.

The house was nice looking, from the outside.

I knock on the door, and I'm greeted by a woman.

She looked older than Russia, but not as old as China, with blonde hair cut in a pixie. Her eyes were the same shade as Russia's.

I refuse to comment on how big her boobs were.

"H-hello." I stutter. "I'm Tally. I was sent here by-"

"Oh! Hurry and come in then!" She says. "I'm Ukraine. Hurry! Before brother comes back!" She nearly drags me into her home, the two cats following, and I'm taken back by how poor quality everything is.

"Comes back? He was already here?" I ask.

"Yes! He came over first thing this morning! I didn't even know who you were then! You have become very famous in the past day. Rumor has it he not only went to Belarus's house, but also Finland's, and China's! You must be very important to him, if he needs to find you so badly!" She said emotionally. I wonder if she's always so melodramatic.

"Oh, not really. He kidnapped me, and I ran away from him. You…" I clear my throat. "You don't have a creepy crush on him too, do you?"

"Of course not! He's my brother! But Belarus does… I love her, but you know, she does have some mental issues…" She coughs. "Anyways, you'll stay the night with me! And I'll drop you off at the airport tomorrow!"

"Cool, alright."

"So," She said, pulling me into the living room, "What would you like to do?"

"…Tell me about yourself?" I ask.

"Okay! Well, my name is Ukraine, I never chose a human name for myself. I am told that I'm dramatic and apologetic… But I'm really nice, compared to Belarus and Russia… They're so scary…" She smiles timidly. "What about you?"

"I'm Thalassa, or Tally for short. I don't remember much, but things have been returning recently. I am told that I'm friendly, and I like cooking, music, and cats." I introduce. "These two are Millie and Tally, my cats. I found them while I was running, and kept them. Aren't they adorable?" Tally happily takes the compliment, while Millie sulks.

"Now, why did you run from Russia? Was he scaring you?" Ukraine asks, regaining my concentration.

"Not at all!" I shake my head quickly.

"Well, what happened, then?" She sits me on the couch, and looks at me worriedly. She reminds me of a mother, causing me to want to tell her everything.

"…Promise not to tell anyone?"

"Promise!" She replies.

"Okay, so here's what happened…"

I explain everything that has happened, aside from the memories, since I became a country.

"Oh… That's why he's looking for you. He likes you." She comments.

"What?! That's absurd!" I object.

"How so? He kissed you. What should that mean?"

"I don't know! But he doesn't like me like that! Only one person does… And his name's Canada. But then again…" I trail off, looking down. She raises an eyebrow.

"Really? Let me try something." She pulls out a phone. After pressing a few buttons, I can hear the ringing phone. "Be quiet, or it won't work." She whispers.

"Hello?" I hear his voice.

_Canada._

"Hey, It's Ukraine," She says, "I wanted to ask you a question."

"Oh, well what is it?"

"How do you feel about Thalassa?"

"Oh…" He pauses. "Well, I like her. She's nice."

"Do you like-like her?"

"Um… Why are you asking me these questions?"

"I'm just wondering. America told me something about it. So, you like-like her?"

"Yeah. I haven't seen her in a while though. Kind of miss her, y'know?"

"I understand. Well, I'll talk to you at the next Meeting, okay?"

"Alright. Bye."

"Bye." She presses the end button, and looks at me.

"Now, watch this." She pushes more buttons.

"Hello, Ukraine." Russia's voice fills my ears, and I blush, immediately on alert.

"Hey, brother. You know that girl you came looking here for? Molassa, was it?"

"Her name was Thalassa, yes?"

"Why were you looking for her?"

"Well, when a convict runs away from a prison, the officials have to-"

"A real reason, brother. I can tell she wasn't part of your workers."

"Well, she's a new country. I wanted to be friends with her."

"Just friends?" Ukraine comments. Oh no.

"Well," Russia starts, "At first, she seemed like a lonely person, and since I'm friends with America, then I could possibly be friends with her, right? And then…" His voice softens. "I saw the painting. It was a sailboat painting, everything blue except for the boat, which was white. She drew it. And looking at it, I realized some stuff. And she became a bit more important. Then she wanted to go outside a few days ago, the day she ran away, and she was so warm. So very warm…" His voice gets even quieter. "I thought she was like me, when I saw the painting. I thought she was lonely, like the poor sailboat. But, when she's warm, and I'm cold… Then we're polar opposites."

"…Oh…" Ukraine whispers. My breathing shallows.

"Yeah. She's really affecting me rather weirdly. I get these weird feelings in my chest, and my heart's falling out less." I raise an eyebrow at that. "But… I don't care if she changes me. Maybe it's time for a change." I stand up, and grab my stuff. The two cats become alert, following me.

"And Ukraine?" Russia finishes.

"Yeah?"

"The speaker phone has been on the entire call. I could hear you and the other person breathing." We both freeze.

"Sorry. You must not have seen my… new cat. Yeah. I got a new kitty." Ukraine lies. Horribly.

"It's okay Russia," I speak, "I'm on my way over." Ukraine gives me a strange glance while I open the front door.

"Bye Ukraine! I'll talk to you soon, okay?"

When I walk out the door, I hear Ukraine apologizing to Russia, saying that she didn't want to go behind his back like that, and that she was dragged into the mess by Belarus, but all I can hear is Russia smiling.

Yeah, I'm crazy, if I can hear slight movement like a smile.

I have to walk back inside after leaving, to ask for a bike or something to borrow. I get a bike. It has a basket in the front for the cats, and because I biked as a child (something I never forgot) my limbs are used to the pedaling and I get there at three in the morning. The lights are on in every window.

I nearly run up to the door, and raise my hand to knock, but stop. What will I say? _'Hey, sorry I ran away. I wanted some space?' _Jeez, why am I back here in the first place? I need to get home!

_ But Russia… He seems so lonely. He is feared by everyone because of his large country and intimidation… But I'm different. I'm not afraid. Back on that day… He was so cold…_

_ I want to warm him up._

I knock on the door, and Lithuania answers. I'm frightened.

Lithuania's face is covered in bruises, and he has a makeshift crutch under his arm. One eye is swollen, and he has little nicks cross his face, showing he was scratched by something. He is currently shirtless, with white bandages covering his stomach. Blood is visibly seeping through the dressing material, signifying that the wound is decently deep. I can't believe this is my fault, and he knows I know what happened.

_This is what happens when Russia's orders were not followed._

"Hey," I mutter breathlessly, and eye his wounds.

"Hey." He says emotionlessly.

"Are… are Estonia and Latvia okay?" I ask. We both knew he wasn't, but I needed to make sure Russia didn't kill someone.

"Yeah. I took all the blow." He whispers.

"That… That's really brave of you." I comment quietly.

"You get used to it. I did."

-_Used to it. I was used to it too-_

Whenever this happens, he takes the blame, the punches, the kicks, the stabs. He takes everything.

_-I took everything too-_

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that, and made you get hurt. I'm going to fix some things, okay?" I tell him, and he opens the door wider, allowing me and the cats in.

"Keep them down here, if you can. I don't want them seeing this." I nod towards the cats, and lean down to them. "I'll be okay, Lithuania will take good care of you for right now. I'll come back to get you in a while. Okay?" They both nod at the information, and turn toward Lithuania.

"Be careful, yeah?" He says, but it sounds different. More like a worried sibling than a fellow kidnapped country.

I nod. "I will." I head up the stairs. I know exactly which room is his, though I've never been in there. What will I say? _'Sorry I ran away, I remembered something and got scared?' _I stand in front of his door. What should I say? _'Sorry I ran off, although I had it planned the entire day?'_

I open the door, and Russia's room, to say at the least, is an organized mess. Stuff is cluttered everywhere, from little trinkets to books to folded clothes that I have never seen him wear. Unlike my room, there is a big bed, and the room is colored white. The closet and bathroom are open, revealing complete chaos. A typical guy's bedroom, although of all people, America's was not like this. The carpet is a sandy beige color, and the ceiling matches it. There is a dark wooden desk, facing away from the door, and in the chair is Russia, facing away from me.

I can immediately smell the liquor, and I believe it is vodka. He is in the middle of taking a swig when I burst in. He turns, smiling, but when he sees it's me, the upturned cheeks disappear. He rises quickly, and walks over to me, pulling back a fist to hit me. Reacting the best way I know possible, I catch the fist before it can hit my body.

_-His fist swings back, powerful and mighty, willing me to break down. It connects to my stomach, and I wheeze out, 'Please, no!' But he doesn't listen. I want to run, but I'm cornered. I need to fight back, but I don't know how. He keeps hitting me in a strong one-two punch, and he reeks of beer. Probably that horrible whiskey he keeps locked in the basement. Hit-hit stop. Hit-hit stop. I fall to the ground, and he begins kicking me. Kick, pause. Kick, pause. I'm coughing blood. I let him do this to me, not really caring. After all, he can do whatever he wants. No one can boss him around. I finally let the darkness sink in-_

No. I won't be like him. I drop the fist, and right when he swings back to take another try, I fall forward and hug him, arms around his waist. He's so frigid, and his body is rigid, I think he might be glass, fragile. He _is_ fragile, delicate.

"I'm sorry I left. I… I thought you just kidnapped me for the thrill. I… I was wrong." It's muffled into his broad chest, but he hears it. I know he does. "It's like," I sniff, "you are so cold. You're frigid, and icy, and quiet, and a bit of a killer; just like the cold. You have little friends, and because you are so large as a country, people are frightened of you. But…" I pause. "I'm not. I want to be friends with you, Russia. After I left, I was so cold, and I knew what it was like to be you. Hell, I knew what it was like before I knew you. Before I became a country! I… No one should have to be like that." His arms fall to his sides, and I look up at him. "Russia…" I smile lightly at him, and push myself onto my tip toes, moving my arms to around his neck. I hug him again, more tightly.

"I want to make you warm." He stands perfectly still at my statement, only teetering slightly from his alcohol intake. No one moves. Everything is quiet.

"I…" He starts. "I want to be warm. I'm always cold… So very cold…"

"It's okay… I was cold once too…" My body is now numb. I'm overcome with drowsiness. I've been running, and pedaling for nearly three days. "I'm so… tired…" I collapse, and he stumbles to catch me.

"Wow…" He laughs. "You really are like Italy…"

"Do you have a cat…?" I whisper sleepily, eyes closing.

"Yes."

"I have… two new cats too… I can talk to both of them… They said I was related to Greece, but that's funny… 'Cause I've never met him…" I laugh, like a little child. He picks me up bridal style, and lays me gracefully on his bed.

"Yes, that is rather funny. I think you might meet him at the Halloween party…" I laugh.

"Good… Hey, Russia…?" I whisper. He leans over me.

"Yes, Thalassa?"

"I'm going to pass out… Can I have a kiss goodnight…?" I mumble dreamily.

"…Sure." His lips press to mine, softly but emotionally. His cold against my warm… I feel tingles all over my body. I smile, and he pulls away.

"Goodnight, Thalassa."

"I… like you a lot, Russia…" I whisper, "More… More than I like Canada…" He smiles at me.

I finally pass out, unaware that I am in Russia's bed and he has nowhere to sleep now.


	32. Twenty-Eight

When I wake up, I realize something.

Usually when I rise from the death known as sleep, I'm either too hot (most of the time), or too cold. Today, I don't know why, but it doesn't feel like that. I feel perfectly comfy. I then understand why.

Since I fell asleep in Russia's bed, Russia had no choice but to sleep with me. No wonder I feel perfect temperature. He's so cooling, so instead of him feeling cold, he also must feel the perfect amount of heat and ice. I snuggle into his chest, and put my ear against his chest, listening to his heart. It's slower than yesterday, probably because he isn't intoxicated and he is sleeping like a rock. It vibrates through my head, and I fall into the rhythm of the beating. After a few moments, I look up at his face.

He looks so peaceful. His mouth is not in its usual calm smile, it's just in a straight line, maybe a little downward tilted, because his mouth is made like that. His hair is a big, fluffy mess. I smile a little at the small amount of drool trailing out of the corner of his mouth. After admiring him in his sleep like the crazy stalker I was, I crept out from under his arm, and tip toed to use his bathroom. I decide to take a shower too.

After bathing, I wrap a long towel around myself and creep out of the bathroom to get some clothes. I think about how adorable it would be to wear one of his shirts, and get a light blue button down from a clean pile in his room before I leave. Before I reach my room, I bump into Estonia.

"Hey." I say, trying to pass him.

"Did- Did you sleep with Russia?" He asks in an astonished tone.

"In sexual meaning, no. I passed out in his room, and he had nowhere else to go."

"He could have at least had some common courtesy to sleep in the guest room…" He sighs.

"I didn't mind too much. I'm going to go… get dressed, now…" I side step him, and shut my bedroom door when I reached it. Making sure my bedroom was empty, (I trust no one in this bloody house) I dropped my towel, and put on a pair of black skinny jeans. None of the shoes are my size except for the plain converse I came here in, so I put them on, along with the Russia's shirt. I braid my wet hair and find a thick black headband. I leave my room, and head towards the kitchen. Latvia is there, cooking something.

"Why did you come back? You were home free!" He exclaims upon noticing me.

"I… How old are you?"

"Fourteen physically, about one hundred in real years." I raise an eyebrow at this.

"Okay, wait. How do we age, exactly?" I ask.

"Well, how old are you?"

"Hmm… I think… About twenty seven…" A shocked expression covers his face.

"Really? When did you stop aging?"

"Well, I haven't really changed features since I was sixteen…" I comment, and he nods.

"Yeah, you look like you're in your adolescent years." He gives me a once over, then blushes. "W-we age by centuries. One century equals one year in appearance."

"Well, damn. I'm going to look young and inexperienced forever. Great."

"'Time flies when you're having fun', as they say."

"What do you know about Belarus?" I ask another question, keeping the topic off of why I returned. I don't even know why I did such a stupid thing.

"Scary, intimidating. Stalks Russia because she loves him, but he doesn't feel like that towards her. She hates Lithuania, who likes her and won't give up on her."

"Hmm. Peculiar. Do you know why she hates Lithuania?"

"Not a clue, sorry."

"Have you seen my cats?" I ask.

"They took a liking to Lithuania, and are in his room." Latvia replies.

"When does Russia wake up?"

"After a rampage night? Noon. After a drinking night? Eleven. After a rampage night and a drinking night? Be happy if he gets up at all."

"Morning." Speak of the devil. I check the time. It's only nine thirty.

"M-Morning, Mr. Russia sir." Latvia stutters. "I-I… I'm making some breakfast. Would you like some?"

"That would be splendid, Latvia. Call us when it's ready." Russia grabs my hand and takes me out of the room.

"Where are we going?" I ask.

"You'll see."

I would like to apoloqize in advance for what's gonna happen. I don't even know anymore. xDDDDD


	33. Twenty-Nine

We get into a car. It's an irregular brand, but nonetheless comfy when sitting inside. The seats warm themselves, letting me know the car ride will be more than warm enough. We drive for a few moments, leaving the dirt road we're on to start on actual streets paved with street. I glance over at him every once and a while, just to see him lightly smiling, like he knows something I don't. In this case, he does.

"What do you know about Belarus?" I ask. If he shows any fear of her, it's completely hidden.

"Well, in all honesty, she scares me. It's very strange to like a sibling like the way she likes me. Especially since I have told her time and time before that I don't like her that way." He explains, and I nod.

"If we… continue what we're doing right now, per say. What would her reaction be? She wouldn't… hate me, would she?" I ask hesitantly.

"Well, she'll definitely be pissed. She's met you before, right?"

"Yeah, and she was willing to help me, because at that moment I was trying to… Um…" I couldn't come up with a decent excuse.

"You were trying to run away… From me."

"…Yeah." I answer meekly. He laughs.

"Don't worry. When Prussia left me, he never came back. You came back. That has to mean something, right?"

"What happened to Prussia?"

"He lives with Germany, since they molded together into one country. He has kind of turned into a ghost there, though. The only reason he still exists as a being is his pure willpower. He is very arrogant."

"Ah. What… What do you know about Belarus's and Lithuania's relationship?" I question.

"I know he likes her, and she hates him. One time, he actually got a date with her, and she broke all of his fingers!" He smiles a little wider, like it was a joke, and I shudder.

"Oh…" Is all I can say. "Why does she hate him?"

"Never know. Supposedly because he tries too hard, and because he's not me?" He tries. "Huh, I never really wondered why…"

"Huh. Where are we going?"

"Austria's house. He's having a recital."

"What? How will we eat the breakfast Latvia's making?" I ask.

"Meh. He will be fine."

"Recital? What does Austria play?"

"He is a complete genius at piano."

"Cool. I haven't seen a piano in a really long time… At least ten years…"

"Did you used to play?" He asks.

"Yeah, I supposedly was the best in my class, but that's a lie. I was never very good."

"Were you told you were bad?"

_Yes._ "No."

"Then you could not possibly be that terrible."

"We-well… Okay."

"We are almost there, now." He gives me a once over, smiling. "You are presentable, at least. I like the way my shirt looks on you." At the comment, I blush, turning bright red.

"Yeah… I saw it in your room, and liked it…" He smiles.

"It makes you look happy." The car stops. "Now let's go."

Austria's house was big. He must be a well-off country. I can hear the murmurs of others from outside, and notice a few windows open. Russia walks over to me and holds out an arm, to which I thankfully link my arm to. We knock, and the door opens, to reveal who I believe to be some sort of servant. He has no distinguishable features.

"Right this way, guests." He smiles and leads us to a huge room. The floor is tiled and the walls are glass. It resembles a church, but not very holy, since there are no crosses or religious statues. There are chairs, some filled with people while others empty, and a big black ballroom grand piano at the very front. I look at everything in awe.

"Very pretty, no?" Russia comments, and I nod. And I spot someone familiar.

"Italy!" I run from Russia, and bear hug the uncanny fool.

"Thalassa? What are you doing here?" He asks. "Where have you been? One minute you were at America's house, and we all wake up and you're gone!"

"I was taken by Lithuania and Estonia to meet Russia. He's really nice." Italy pales.

"Nice? He's so silent… And scary…"

"No he's not! He is quiet though, but he's really sweet!" I exclaim, and Russia finally catches up to Italy and I.

"So," I restart the conversation, "Are you here with Germany, or did you come alone?"

"Yeah! I came with Germany! He wouldn't let me drive though." Italy huffs.

"'Course I didn't. You can't drive at all, Italy." Germany walks up, and replies.

"And how are you, Germany?"

"Well, I was worried, but seeing that you were with Russia, I think I'm alright." He smiles. I laugh.

"So how's the scenery in Russia?" Germany turns to Russia. Italy and I leave them to discuss… whatever they were talking about.

"Italy, who are all of these people? Other countries?" I ask, and he nods.

"Yeah! Look, there's China, and Japan, and America-"

"America? Where?" He points in the direction of the blonde haired guy, and I run over and hug him.

"Hi America! I missed you!" I shout into his chest.

"Thalassa? What happened? You've been missing for a while…" He hugs me back.

"I was hanging with Russia! He's so awesome!" I exclaim eagerly.

"Oh yeah! He mentioned that. Russia, yeah. He's one pretty cool dude…"

"So what time is the concert thing starting?" I ask, and he looks at his wrist. There's no watch.

"Uh, I think I left my watch at home-"

"Ladies and gentlemen, please go to your seats! The concert is about to begin!" We all get to our seats, I sitting between America and Russia (who quickly found me). Silence fills the room as we wait for the alleged 'Austria' to make his entrance. He finally walks in through a side door.

He has black hair, styled with a little up curved piece of hair, like America's. I can't help but blush at the thought of it. His eyes are dark violet, he wears glasses, and he has a small freckle on the lower left of his chin. He wears a pair of dark jeans, with a white button down and a royal blue overcoat. He looks out at all of us, eyes passing over me in confusion, but he finally smiles and sits down. And he plays.

It's something classical, slow at first, then steadily rising, with different chords and the melody pacing faster. It's beautiful. He ends with a small, rather simple F major chord, and everyone applauds. He smiles again, and starts another piece. I know this one.

_-She would play it, over and over and over. I got annoyed. When she would finally stop and put me to bed, she would be humming, sometimes the melody and sometimes the harmony. Then she would go back out to play it again, over and over and over. I never heard her stop. When I was old enough, she taught me to play it, and I would play it, over and over and over, every day after school, until midnight, and then before school the next day. When I played a note wrong, or refused to play, she would get very mad and I would get locked in my room until school the next day. She would play it when I was locked in my room, over and over and over and-_

"Thalassa? Are you okay?" Russia asks me. I feel stickiness on my face, and found tears running out of my eyes. "Thalassa?"

"I-I…" I get up, and walk out of the room. I ask one of the servants where a bathroom is, and they silently point at a door. I thank them, and enter, locking the door behind me. I press my back to the door, and slide down onto a sitting position. I curl my legs up to my stomach, and sob quietly.

_I'm so sick of these memories. Who am I? Why can't I just find out who I am?_


	34. Thirty

I cry until the music stops. I hear people pass, then nothing. When I deem it safe to exit, I do so into the hallway. It's empty, like I assumed. I head back to the grand glass room, to make sure I was correct, and it is also lacking of people. Or countries. I don't really know how to describe our beings. The room is hollow, and with everything enlightened and bright, the piano's black mahogany is contrasting, attracting attention weather you want it to or not.

"You stupid piece of wasted wood…" I grumble angrily at it, sitting on the bench. "Ruined my childhood… I know how to play you, but hate every waking moment at you…" I sigh, contemplating. "Well… I guess… It wouldn't hurt to play you…" I set up my hands, remembering the piece instantly. Fur Elise was so stereotypical for the piano, yet such a pretty song… Mother... My hands move over and over, playing the song with melodic perfection of someone who's played the song and learned it recently. Having not played the piano for a decent ten years, it awakens my senses, and a feeling a happiness overwhelms my body when I finish the song. I don't want to stop playing. My body's not used to playing one song a sitting. I hate the piano, but I love playing it…

I play another song. And another.

"What do you think you are doing?" I hear behind me, and the accusation echoes through the room, making me jump. I rip my hands from the keys.

"S-sorry… I didn't mean to, it just happened-"

"How long have you been playing?" They ask. I finally turn to see Austria looking down at me through his glasses.

"I played since I was a little snotty brat, but stopped when I was thirteen." I didn't explain that I had run away from home. That would be figured out soon enough.

"Why did you stop? You're very good." He comments, and I laugh awkwardly.

"I was forced to play the piano. I didn't choose to out of my own free will. And I can only play so good because when I would get a note wrong, _a single note_, I wouldn't get dinner." I smile. "But it's okay, I kind of like playing now. It grew on me. Now if only I could like the piano…" I shudder, standing up quickly to get away from the horrendous thing.

"…Have you ever thought of learning another instrument, if you don't like the piano?" He asks, and I shake my head.

"Nah, I'm not a very musically incarnated person. My main goal in life is to get by, but now even that can't really happen."

"Why?"

"I'm Thalassa. A new country."

"Oh, you mean the one Italy, Germany, America, Russia, Belarus, Ukraine, France, Japan, China, Lithuania, Estonia, Latvia, and Canada won't stop talking about?" I blush, and nod.

"Hah, yeah. I've kind of made a decent impression on the world, haven't I? Just by existing…" I sigh, and sit down on the bench again. "It's a rather big pain in the ass, really. I was happy just living there, me and the Island. And then America came. I resent his appearance on that one day, when he arrived… But then again, if that wouldn't of happened, I would have probably started aging again, and I wouldn't have become Thalassa the country. I would still be Tally the person. Not to mention I wouldn't have met everyone. And I wouldn't be remembering who I am…" I look at him, and blush, looking back down at the floor. "Why the hell am I telling you this…"

"Because you need someone to talk to. I'm not the one you should see about that, though. You should talk to Hungary. She's really good with that type of stuff. I would know, I was married to her for nearly a century." I laugh.

"…Where could I find her?"

He leads me back to where everyone disappeared to after the recital. Everyone I know gives me questioning glances, none of which I answer. Austria leads me to a table, where a woman is fiercely – almost angrily – talking to a man. The woman has wavy brown hair, and green eyes, while the man has nearly white blonde hair in a shaggy bowl with red eyes. _Is he wearing contacts? Albino?_

"Hungary?" Austria asks, and the woman looks up. Her white dress makes her look tan, and she smiles lopsidedly at Austria.

"Yeah babe?" He blushes, not used to her calling him that. She grins cheekily.

"This is that new country, Thalassa. She came here with Russia." She turns towards me, her smile turning mischievous. The red-eyed man perks up with interest.

"Well," Hungary starts, "you scared of him yet?" I hear that she has masculine grammar, showing that she was raised around men.

"No. He's rather nice, once you get used to him." I answer honestly. The unknown man raises an eyebrow.

"My my, you're a strong one! If you can handle living with Russia without breaking down, I'll call you to come fight with me any day!" She laughs. Yep, raised by guys. The red eyed man snickers. I smile politely. _Yeah,_ I think while my smile slowly disappears, _I can handle Russia, but I still break down…_

Hungary must have noticed my face or read my emotions. "Austria, does the goat groan at three?" I hold in laughter, wondering what that could have possibly meant. The red eyed man doesn't try to hold it in, he chuckles.

"U-uh…" Austria's face turns scarlet, "Yeah. The…" He coughs. "The goat groans at three." She claps her hands.

"Prussia!" She turns towards the peculiar gentleman, "take Austria to get something to drink. Go converse with your brother. Just… go away, okay?" The man sighs, and nods.

"Alright. C'mon Austria, you're coming to hang out with your awesome rival at the bar. I need a drink." The red eyed man, now recognized as Prussia, stands up, and roughly leads a protesting Austria away. Although Austria wasn't fighting Prussia's grasp, I could hear him arguing, saying he would rather want to hang out with Italy, or Switzerland. I turn back to Hungary, who smirks, sipping a bottled beer.

"Now," She puts the beer on the table, and leans forward. "Take a seat, and tell me everything that's happened."

It takes about half an hour to tell her everything that I know happened to me. From how I kind-of-sort-of dated Canada for three days, to the scraps of memories I have recalled. I get a beer, and it's gone by the time I'm up to the present. She clicks her tongue.

"Well," she assesses, "I believe a few things. You had a rough childhood. Hell, you've had a rough life overall. You love, or at least greatly like Canada, Russia-"

"Russia? Really? I have never-" I protest, but she continues.

"-and America. And maybe France, but I don't really think so. Nobody really likes France." I don't protest to that.

"I don't like America like that." I state, and she nods.

"He's brotherly to you, yes?" I bob my head in agreement.

"Well, I honestly don't know what to say." Hungary states plainly. "I want to help you, though. You definitely need more people at your country. Have you been to a world meeting yet? It will take a while until you are allowed to run one, but they're nice, I guess. Really debatable. And you haven't even met all of the countries yet! Wow, you're story is not even half way over!" I laugh at that. She puts her elbows against the table, leaning her head into her hands.

"Well, what do I do?" I ask.

"I'll become your older sister. I can teach you many things, from how to get guys to the best fighting moves." She puts out a hand. "You don't have to do anything but let me become your tutor, your teacher, of the Rules of the World. Deal?" I look at her honest eyes. My hand compacts neatly into hers.

"Deal."


	35. Thirty-One

We talked for a while longer, mostly about hers and Austria's On-Again-Off-Again relationship.

"See, the problem is," she figures, "whenever I make time for him, he just goes to do something else! I'm tired of it! I think he needs to get on track and more determined, like Prussia! Prussia is so strong-minded and proud. He always goes straight for the ball, and doesn't dilly dally."

"But… That's so boring…" I comment. She shakes her head.

"No. It's really awesome. Just like him." She glances over my shoulder, and I turn to see Prussia laughing at something Italy had said. He looks over at me, then at Hungary, and he smiles. I turn back to her to see her look down and swiftly take a drink.

"You like him." It wasn't a question. It's a statement.

"No I don't. I like Austria. He's my man. We were once married, and-"

"And how long was this?"

"Fifty-three years."

"So not even enough time for you to age one year?" I reason. "I think you and him make a cute couple and all… But maybe you guys should try something new."

"I don't want to!" She argues.

"Why not?" I ask. "You like Prussia, and he obviously likes you. Next time you and Austria have an off time, go after him. Figure which one you like more. No harm done, because Austria will get jealous – if he truly likes you – and so you can get him back if it doesn't work out between you and Prussia. I'm just saying, it would work." She looks at the table.

"Well… I guess it would… But if it backfires, I'm blaming you, alright?" She compromises. I agree.

"Hey," Prussia walks over, sitting next to Hungary. "Everything good? You guys done talking about your female problems?" Hungary hits him in the shoulder.

"Ow. That hurt." He comments sarcastically, rubbing his arm. "Seriously." He turns to me. "Chick can pack a punch, I'm telling you. Ever since she was little, and we would fight."

"You guys fought?" I ask, and he nods.

"She could never realize that I was so truly awesome that she could never beat me. But this was back when she thought she was a guy-"

"What? No way!" I exclaim. He nods, smirking.

"True story. Until she hit puberty, she thought male gents were just something that would grow in when you got older." Hungary hits him again.

"Fuck you, Prussia." She spits out, blushing a light pink. He laughs.

"What? Can't take the pressure? You want to go cry to Austria?"

"That's it. Get over here, bastard." She tackles him, in her white dress, with fancy shoes and everything. It's truly a sight to behold. He's laughing from under her as she pins him down. They roll and wrestle on the grass, and when Austria and Germany – who were talking to each other – rush over, it is too late. Their hair is a mess, and they have mud and grass stains all over their clothes and bodies. They are both sporting bruises and scrapes, and panting heavily.

They also look happier than I have ever seen anyone look in my entire life.

Germany, although he is the younger of the two brothers, takes Prussia away, scolding him like a naughty child, and thwacking Prussia on the head. Austria just smiles sadly at Hungary, who blushes and looks down.

"Sorry, Aussie. I got a little carried away. He started it!" She sounds like a little kid, and I'm aware I just witnessed a reenactment of the play fights Prussia and Hungary had as children. Although Hungary apologized, and Austria led her into the house, there was no regret of what happened showing on Hungary's face. Nor on Prussia's, when I see him sulking later at a table. The party was nice overall, and Hungary said she'd call when she wanted to meet. Everyone leaves, and on the way back to Russia's house, he asks me how I like the party.

I told him it was amazing. I thank him for bringing me. He smiles, looking at me.

"I knew you would like it. Almost as much as you like Canada, no?"

I tense. _How does he know I like Canada?_ He just glances over, and smiles.

"What? Are you worried?" He asks. I look down.

"…Should I be?" I answer quietly.

"Depends on if you love him or not. Hungary did say you do." I give him a questioning look.

"I heard her say so. She also said you loved me." A blush arises on my cheeks.

"W-well…" I answer. "I… I'm not a very sure person about feelings, Russia…"

"And America! She said you loved America, too!" He continues. I sink into my seat as we pull into a long, gravel driveway that wasn't his.

"How long have you been a country, now, Thalassa?" He asks.

"…About two years…"

"So, in two years, you have managed to fall in 'love' with three people."

"I love everyone I meet…" I trail off. _I know why too._ "I love every single person, place, or thing that I have ever met. Why? Because, I don't want to be like my mother." I swallow. "My mother, she was… Very negative. All she would do was play this stupid piano… Every day…" Tears sting my eyes, and I let them fall. "She taught me to play, and when I played wrong, or I refused, she would yell, and lock me in my room. I had to learn how to care for myself. It was horrible. And my mother… She smoked. Not just every now and again… All the time." I take in a shuddering breath. "I… I loved her, but she hated me…"

Russia's face killed me. His brows are furrowed, his mouth a tight line, but his eyes… They're flaming. They're frightening. They're angry. He raises a hand, and I tense, waiting for the impact._ I deserve it. I deserve the hits, the kicks, the cuts, everything that Lithuania received. I deserve the pain._

I hear the thwack, but feel nothing. Opening my eyes, which I had closed on instinct, I see a large dent on the steering wheel. I laugh nervously.

"Haha…" My voice is wavering, shuddering. _Scared._ "No… No air bag? That's not safe, R-Russia…" He glares at me. I'm nearly sobbing out of fright and of nervousness and of embarrassment. "W-what? I… I can't worry for someone I love?" I laugh like an idiot, and bang my head on the window. "I-I mean… If you were to get in a car accident… I would be worried…" I ramble, sitting back up to look at him. "You could get hurt, and have to wear a cast, and wouldn't be able to care for yourself, not to mention your cat! And your car could get totaled, and you know how troublesome that would be." He's still staring. I continue, picking up the pace with my speech. "And if you died I would cry and Belarus would cry and Ukraine and Lithuania and Latvia would all cry and-" He leans forward and presses his lips to mine. I freeze. He chuckles, white puffs of air escaping from his mouth in the cold air.

"You really think I would let that happen?" He asks.

"Well, if it's really icy and you lose control of the car-"

"Not that, Thalassa. Hitting you? Hurting you? I would never do that, even if it killed me. Even if it left me with no friends. Even if you asked me to. I could never do that. I like you too much." He states it simply, like it means nothing. _But it doesn't_. I look at him, completely surprised. "I would hate myself…"

"What if… What if I deserved it?"

"Well," He laughs, "I definitely would not be the one to discipline you! I… do not do that…" I smile, and start taking off my seatbelt. "What? You are running away again, after I said all that?" He looks at me incredulously. "No… You know what…? You can go. Leave. Go home. I do not want to see you again anyways." I giggle.

"You're an idiot, you know that?" I ask him, not giving him any time to answer before I flop over onto him and plant a kiss on his lips. _He's so cold, so icy… "_I'm not leaving, not for a while…" I whisper, white clouds fanning his face, "You're too cold. Let me warm you up." God, I sounded so slutty. I am really going to do this.


	36. Thirty-Two

I WOULD JUST LIKE TO POINT OUT THAT I'M SORRY ABOUT THE LAST CHAPTER HOLY CRAP WHAT HAPPENED THROUGH MY MIND I KNOW NOT. I WOULD ALSO LIKE TO POINT OUT THAT THERE'S A SEX SCENE IN THIS SO JUST READ IF YOU WANT TO I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS BECAUSE I HONESTLY DON'T REMEMBER WRITING MOST OF IT I SORT OF JUST WENT INTO A MIND FAZE SO YEAH APOLOGIES.

His hands are on my face, and mine are around his neck. Our lips are clashed, fire and ice, fighting for dominance. I let him win, but break the kiss to push myself into the back of the car. I land on the floor with a cry and a giggle, grabbing Russia's coat collar and pulling him back with me. We fall onto the connected back seat, and resume our extreme kissing. His tongue is cold, and he tastes like cinnamon.

"You do not… We do not have to do this if you do not want to." Russia breathes out.

"I want to. So badly." I whisper, and he blinks. Suddenly, he attacks.

I gasp for air, and his lips travel to my neck, kissing softly. I clutch onto him, refusing to let go, even though he's numbing me to the core. He nips at the skin on my neck, and I moan. He chuckles. I lean up, with him positioned in between my legs, and slowly start sliding his jacket off. He doesn't object, and just eyes me curiously, most likely wondering how far I want to go.

He's left in a white t-shirt, and his hands skim across my exposed stomach, causing goose bumps. He leans over me, beginning to unbutton the shirt I'm wearing, and glances at me from time to time, making sure it's okay. My – his - shirt is completely unbuttoned, and my light green bra is showing. He looks me over, and kisses me again.

"You are really warm." He whispers huskily into my ear.

"You're really cold." I reply, licking his exposed cheek. He laughs at that, and moves his lips to mine. I pull the shirt over his head, ruffling his hair in the process. His scarf dangles down, and instead of trying to remove it, I pull it, making him move closer, his cold, hard chest touching mine. I shiver, and look at him, trying to keep his picture in my mind. His light blonde hair is tousled, and his violet eyes are full of excitement and – What's the word? – Yes, lust. There's a pinking on his cheeks. I pull his belt out of the loops, and drop it to the car floor. He blinks. I unbutton the jeans, and tug them down, exposing plaid blue boxers. I see something protruding from under the cloth. I don't need to guess to know what it is.

He takes me, and lays me down on the back seats. "Your turn." He whispers softly. I let him take off the pants, and he slides his hands up my thighs. Goose bumps return. He eyes me warily.

"Are you sure? I am not too cold?" He asks. I nod, sitting up in my undergarments.

"Never," I mutter, "You're perfect." He smiles, and kisses me once again. His hands go behind my back, and he fumbles with the bra hooks. After a few moments, he finally gets it, and my bra falls to his lap. He takes it, and throws it up front.

"Souvenir?" He asks. I laugh and nod, pulling down his underwear, exposing his, ahem, junk. He's huge, to say at the least. I'm afraid again, but for a different reason. I get his boxers and throw them up front as well.

"I need one too." I laugh, and he pushes against me, separated by the thin cloth of my underwear.

"May I?" He asks. I blush and nod. He slides them off, and slips a finger into me. I immediately clutch onto him, gasping. He chuckles.

"You are really wet…" He mutters as he removes his finger, wiping it on a nearby article of clothing. I think it might be a sock. I turn completely red and bury my face into his chest.

"Have you… you know… done this before?" He asks. If possible, I redden even further than I already am.

_Sort of._ "Uh… Yeah…" I answer. "You?"

"Yeah." We don't talk any further about it, and he positions himself to enter. I gasp as he slowly slides himself into me, and clutch onto him for dear life. Once he's completely inside me, he pulls out a little.

"You ready?" He whispers.

"Ye-" I start to agree, but cry out as, without warning, he rams back into me fully. I squeeze onto him tightly, biting my lips to keep from screaming in his ear.

"Did that hurt?" He asks. I nod, tears welling in my eyes. He smiles.

"Sorry. I will try… moving softer." He suggests, and begins moving back and forth slowly. I moan, and close my eyes, enjoying the erotic feeling building up. He starts moving faster. I wrap my arms and legs around him. He rocks back and forth, our bodies moving in sync. Our hearts beating together. Our breaths one. Everything is so wonderful, so magnificent, I can barely hold on to reality.

The windows are fogged, and I pull Russia's head down to mine, kissing him passionately. He hooks one hand in my hair, the other pulling my leg up from behind the knee. He hits something inside of me, making me finally lose it. He grunts, pushing in and out, faster and faster.

"I-I… I'm going t-to…" I pant out, and he nods and drives faster. The feeling explodes, and I scream out his name involuntarily. He continues to push into me, until he tenses, and rests his head onto the crook of my neck, panting heavily. We both are gasping for air, and roll onto our sides, for a more comfortable laying position. I draw circles and shapes on his chest. He holds me, and our breathing slows.

"I like your scarf…" I mutter. "That… That's why I didn't try taking it off."

"Good. I probably would not have let you." He smiles. I snuggle into his chest.

"I love you." I whisper. He strokes my hair.

"I love you too. That… That is why I kidnapped you. I found you… Interesting." He reveals.

"I'm happy you kidnapped me."

"I am happy you are happy."

"I… Can I get pregnant? You didn't use a condom." I point out.

"Countries cannot have children, although older civilizations, like Rome and Germania and Ancient Greece, said that they were some of today's countries grandparents. Rome raised Italy, Germania raised Germany and Prussia, and Ancient Greece raised, well, Greece." Russia explains.

"Oh…" I never really liked kids very much, I am always afraid I'll turn out like my mother, or worse, _her_. "Who raised you?" I ask.

"No one. I raised myself." I look up at him and meet his gaze. His eyes… They are full of honesty. I hug him tighter.

"…Same here." We're silent for a few moments, letting this sink in. Russia finally sits up. The moment is over.

"Come on. We have to get dressed and go home. The Baltic's are probably worrying their asses off."


	37. Thirty-Three

Getting dressed in the car was difficult, but Russia and I managed to handle it with ease. He's in the front and starting the car when I crawl between the front two seats to sit in passenger. We start the car, and drive. The ride home is quick and painless, both of us singing along to whatever is on the radio.

"Where have you guys been? We've been worried sick!" Lithuania shouts the minute we walk through the front door. I smile in greeting as Russia shrugs.

"Austria had a recital. Thalassa needed to meet people." Russia explains easily.

"Yeah, we know about the concert. We called Austria, in fact. The party ended six hours ago!" Lithuania argues.

"So the drive home was a little long; why do you care, anyways?" Russia bites back. Lithuania pauses, and looks down.

"I… I always worry about you two…" He reveals. I smile at him.

"Well, if you really want to know-" I start, but Russia covers my mouth.

"We had some car problems. It wouldn't start at first, and it died halfway home." Russia lies.

"Oh. You could have just said so." Lithuania believes the lie. "Well… Dinner is in an hour. Don't miss it, like you did Latvia's pancakes, okay?" We nod, and head towards the bedroom hallway. He is about to enter his room, when I ask,

"Why did you lie to Lithuania?"

"I want to keep this a secret." He informs. I cock my head to the side.

"Why?" He walks over, and plants a kiss on my cheek.

"Trust me, okay?" He whispers. I nod slowly.

"Alright. See you soon." He escorts himself away, and I meekly reply a farewell before entering my own room. I pull his boxers out of my pocket, blushing like a crazed little teenager. The dark blue plaid is soft, worn in. There's a small hole in them. _My souvenir_. I shove them under the bed, and hop into the shower, feeling really grimy.

I am in the middle of scrubbing my hair, when the white liquid begins seeping from my crotch.

"Ew…" I wrinkle my nose. I remember this happening.

_-I need new pants. New underwear. Those men… All of those men… It was coming out. All over my pants. I need something. Anything! Hurry, look in those bins! Someone must have unwanted pants! I need something, something-_

I quickly finish cleaning myself, and change into a flowing blue skirt and a long sleeved black shirt. I put my hair into a ponytail and exit the room. Dinner time.

We have chicken in some type of yellow mustard sauce, and, like much food here, it is plain, but filling. We converse about weather and likes and dislikes. Lithuania mentions something about having Poland come over, but Russia quickly denies, saying Lithuania can go over to visit him tomorrow. Latvia asks if he can go visit Sealand, and Russia also agrees. Estonia says he might wish to go out and visit Finland, but it isn't likely.

"Oh, and Thalassa? Hungary called. She wishes to meet with you tomorrow, and stay for the rest of the month." Lithuania explains. I start to answer I would, but remembered it's not my decision, being a forced visitor. _Russia has to allow me._

"Can I, Russia?" I ask. He looks at my pleading eyes, and sighs, looking down.

"I have had a hold on you for about a week or two… Alright." I cheer.

"Oh… What day is it?" I ask Estonia, needing to know how much I have to pack.

"Well, it's in the third week of October, the twenty-fourth to be exact."

"Alright! I'll go pack after dinner."

Russia says nothing, and doesn't say anything for the rest of the night.

Sorry it was so short, but we ARE ALMOST DONE WITH PART TWO THIS IS GREAT FUCK YEAH.


	38. Thirty-Four

It's morning. About six o'clock. I made sure everything was packed up, since Hungary was going to be over at noon. I can't move. I'm feeling really lazy.

I wonder if there is a computer around here. Sneaking out of my room, I head to the kitchen, knowing someone will be up, cooking or something.

Russia's there, frying something in a pan. I stand there quietly, watching him cook. He shuffles the pan across the burner, making whatever is in the pan sizzle. Even through all that has happened, I feel like I need to act professionally around him, like he's my boss or something. I can't be very casual. It's strange. I swallow my sudden and awkward fear, and move to stand next to him.

"Need any help?" I ask quietly. He smiles, shaking his head.

"No thanks. I'm working out my stress." He responds.

"What? Why are you stressed?" I ask worriedly.

"You. With me, under my watch… I know you are safe. You will not get attacked, or hurt… I can protect you. But… if you go somewhere else…" He sighs. "I just do not think you could be very safe."

"I'll be fine. Not only do I know how to fight back, but I am also going to be learning new moves from Hungary… That'll be fun." I laugh, and hug him around the waist. He pauses from pan sliding, but continues after a few moments.

"Well… I hope you will stay safe. Do not trust Britain, if you happen to meet him." I frown.

"Why?"

"Just… Do not. He is the type to capture you and… Well… He is very strict. He does not like me, for whatever reason. I do not like him much either. And do not eat his cooking. He is a terrible cook." I smile and peck him on the cheek.

"I could handle him in a heartbeat. Just depends on if he's as tall as you or not." I grin. He laughs.

"Definitely not as tall as me. He honestly goes to my shoulders, like France. And then Canada and America both go to my chin. In all honesty, everyone is shorter than me, except for Sweden, who is the same height."

"Are any of them shorter than me?" I ask, genuinely curious.

"Well, you go to my chest. The only person I can think of that is shorter than you is Japan, who goes to my elbows. You seem to be the same height as Italy, maybe a little taller." I nod.

"I figured as much…" Our conversation grew silent, and the silence is tense. I lean my head slightly on his tall frame, and sigh. "I'm going to miss you. I'll try calling as much as I can, okay? Be nice to the Baltic's. I did see what you did to Lithuania." He frowns a little, and shuffles the pan, faster than earlier.

"Don't tell me you didn't hurt him." I state. He says nothing. "They do care about you."

He chuckles, but there's no humor in his voice. "Do not poison your thoughts with false accusations. They just want out. They do not give a rat's ass about me."

"That's a lie, and you know it. They love you. I mean sure, you're frightening. Intimidating. You did capture them. But they care. They left in the nineties, and came back for whatever reason. Didn't you see how Lithuania acted when we got back? He had definitely looked the part of a worried parent, as did Latvia and Estonia!" I exclaim.

"Lies." He whispers harshly, causing me to flinch.

"You…" I halt. I couldn't think of any way to persuade him that I was right. I sigh, defeated. "Alright. I guess you can believe what you want to. 'We see with our own eyes', as they say." I answer. He glances at me, and looks down at the food.

"I am sorry. I just do not believe you." He mutters. I rub his upper arm comfortingly.

"I won't push what I say any further. I want to leave on good terms, right?" I smile. He wraps an arm around my waist.

"I do not want you to leave, let alone on a bad foot." He laughs, and I join him.

"So, what are you making?"

"Bacon." I grin.

"I haven't had bacon in a while." I comment. He pours the greasy slices of meat onto a plate, which is now overflowing with bacon. I take one, and gnaw on it slowly.

"Nom." I grunt, and Russia chuckles, kissing my hair.

"And be careful." He repeats. "It has been about half a century since the last world war, so there is some wild tension between us countries, okay?" I nod.

"Jeez…" I whisper. "I remember listening about World War two in school…"

_ -'Now,' the teacher said, 'I will number you all off into five. You will then find everyone in your group and get into that section. Okay, class?' We all nod in excitement. I turn towards a friend of mine in class, Brianna, who grins cheekily at me. The teacher, a very fast-paced woman in her forties, numbers us off quickly, and – lo and behold – Brianna and I are in the same group! We high five each other, as the teacher explains. 'Now, everyone on this half,' she points to the left, 'is part of The Axis. This includes Germany, Italy, Japan, Hungary, and others. Everyone else is part of The Allies. This includes, but is not limited to, America, France, China, Mexico, Russia, Canada, Poland, and The British Empire. They were at war with each other between 1939 and 1945. Now, everyone in The Axis must follow blonde haired and blue eyed people, which are…' The teacher looks at all of the students on that side, 'Beth, Michael, and Anthony. Everyone in The Axis must follow their orders. The people of The Allies all work together, so there are no exact leaders. Everyone, you must get a piece of paper, and write one thing you know about your given group that I haven't already provided. Ready? Go!" She claps her hands, and we're off in a flourish. I sit with Brianna, and while I'm trying to work and figure this out, she's commenting about how she wants purple hair, like her older sister, Marcie. I half-heartedly listen, and figure out something easily about The Allies. 'All of the countries are really popular!' I write eagerly, and Brianna – Who had been talking most of the time – asks to copy. I let her. I can't wait to go home, and ask Mother about this! I wonder if she'll be home, or if I'll have to climb through the bathroom window again-_

"Thalassa?" Russia asks. "Are you alright? I was asking about if you have everything packed."

"Oh. Uh, yeah. Everything's all ready."

"Good. Hungary is here early." I nearly drop my now cold piece of bacon.

"All right. I'll go get my stuff, okay?" I ask, and leave without waiting for a response. Man, Hungary is here really early. I'll have to hurry and polish off my packing. I hope Russia doesn't mind that I'm stealing some of his sisters' clothes. I grab my backpack, and sling it over both shoulders after dressing. I wear a pair of jeans and a black sweatshirt. When I reenter the kitchen to bid farewell to everyone, they're all standing there, waiting for me. I hug Latvia first.

"Gonna miss you, squirt." I mutter. He blushes and shoves me off of him.

"I am fourteen, y'know." I ruffle his hair.

"I know." I move to Estonia next.

"Be nice. Don't spend too much time on the computer. And go get a girlfriend." I tease him, and give him a big bear hug. He pats my head awkwardly.

"I'll try." He laughs. I step in front of Lithuania, and hug him quickly, whispering in his ear.

"Go try to get with Belarus. She'll kill me if you don't win her over." I give him no time to respond, walking up to Russia and giving him a big kiss on the lips.

Everyone nearly faints. He growls.

"I thought I said not to show them." He mutters.

"I couldn't help myself. I'll call you tonight, okay?" He mumbles something undecipherable and nods. I kiss him again.

"I love you." He says. I am sort of surprised that he admitted it so easily, but then again, he probably feels it a fiercely as I do, although I've only known him for about a week, and most of that time I was running from him.

"Love you too, babe." I smile, and walk out the door to Hungary's waiting car. This is gonna be fun.


	39. Hungary's Interlude

Hungary's Interlude (Interlude at Hungary's House)

Introducing Spain and Romano

With Hungary, Prussia, Austria, France and England


	40. Thirty-Five

"So," I start, "What are we gonna listen to?" Hungary and I are sitting in her sweet Subaru, about to get started on this drive home.

"Do you have a music device?" She asks. I nod, pulling out my iPod. I haven't been listening to it very often, although I used to not be able to go a day without it. It is my soul child. I could never lose something that precious to me.

"I have this. What do you want to listen to?" I scroll through my playlists. "Eighties, Metal, Rap… Oh! I know! Back when I was a kid, everyone had Road Trip playlists, songs that they could jam to in a car. I happen to have one of those. Want to try it?" I ask her, and she grins eagerly. I plug it in, and hit shuffle. A heavy instrumental begins pounding through the car as we head out.

The song lasts for about five minutes, and another starts.

We've nearly gone through the entire playlist now. It's a playlist of about four hundred songs. We sang the songs we knew, and laughed the whole ride. We finally arrive at Hungary's house.

"When did you stop going to school?"

"Right after my eighth year, why?" I ask.

"Well, I set up your training in a bit of a school-like schedule." _Fuck, my life._

"Great," I mutter sarcastically, "how will it work? More than one teacher, correct?"

"Yeah, I have a schedule all written out for you and everything!" She says. "It's inside; I wanted you to get settled in more. Is that alright?" I nod happily.

"Fantastic. I didn't want to see it right now anyways." I smile, and she laughs.

"Awesome. I'll show you to your room. Get your bags." I grab everything, and note at how country styled the house is. It's a creamy yellow, with white trimmings on the doors and windows. There's a wraparound porch, and a big oak tree in front of the home. Very adorable. I walk into the home, on the wooden floor, and Hungary leads me to the left and down a light blue hallway. All of the colors in the house are light, and the room I get has mint colored walls with a dark wood floor and white accents. The bed has a cool colored quilt over it, and there is a cute bathroom with yellow tinted bathroom plumbing situations. There isn't a closet, but there is an armoire, which I can hang my clothes that I brought in. Since I am staying for about a week, I picked four pairs of wear-worthy pants, and ten shirts, not to mention jackets, dresses, and undergarments. _This will be one hell of an October_. I unpack quickly, and right when I finish hanging the last of my clothes, Hungary walks in.

"Take a seat; I am going to explain some things to you." I nod and sit on the bed, and she begins pacing slowly, leisurely, in front of me. "Now, I will not sugar coat everything. I was not taught to do so, being raised by men." She starts, and takes a large breath. "You have six teachers. One each day, Wednesday is your weekend. I am your only female teacher, since there aren't very many female countries. Classes will run from nine in the morning to nine at night. You will only have one class with each teacher, and we all want you to be completely prepared for action at the Halloween Ball on Halloween night. We will teach you everything you'll need to know. Here is your schedule." I look down at it hesitantly, and nearly regret it.

_ Thursday-History_

_ Friday-Music_

_ Saturday-Weapons and Fighting_

_ Sunday-Dancing_

_ Monday-Manners_

_ Tuesday-Seduction Etiquette_

"Seduction Etiquette?" I repeat, glancing at Hungary. "Who teaches that?"

"Surprise. I'll only let you know that I am for sure that you have met your teacher for tomorrow. Thank God I picked you up on a Wednesday, right?" She jokes, but I know this all is no laughing matter.

I will be going to school.

And _learning._

God damn it.


	41. Thirty-Six

_Well, the alarm to wake me up nearly killed me. _It goes off, a loud, annoying, honking blare that makes me fly out of bed in complete alertness. Once I realize where I am and remember how I got here, everything clicks, and I sigh. _I don't want to do this. But I need to. I need to figure out everything._ I quickly shower and dress, a light pair of late sixties jeans and a billowy blue top that has sleeves to the elbows. I don't think I'll need shoes, if everything is happening in the house. Thirty minutes until class is to start, Hungary enters the room.

"Good, you're ready. I need to show you around the house." She grabs my arm and drags me out of what I have claimed as my room. "Oh, and I like your clothes today. I remember the sixties. Good times, lots of movies were made in those days." I smile.

"That's amazing. I love movies. I hope I have some good movie makers from my country." She laughs.

"Don't worry. You will. That's what everyone thinks when they were first born. _'Will I make good food too? Will I have such a strong force of warriors?'_ Everyone has their pros and cons." She explains, and I nod in understanding.

"Huh, fancy." We turn a corner, and I finally begin paying attention to where I am headed. There's a single door, with windows the entire hall. There are some pictures in between the windows, and I study one in particular. It's a tall man, who is posed with a foot stepping bravely onto a rectangular shaped rock. He's holding a sword triumphantly, as if he just conquered something huge. He has a pale complexion, and a wicked smile, showing good teeth. He has black hair and bright green eyes. Hungary's eyes.

"Who's that?" I ask Hungary, pointing at the photo.

"Oh," Her tone grew soft, "That's uncle Magyar. He raised me. Taught me all the fighting I know." I glance at her, and she's smiling sadly. Her eyes are misty.

"C'mon, no need to start crying," I say, patting her back. She takes me down quickly, one hand behind my back, and the other above my head.

"I will never do anything of the sort. I do not cry. I may be a woman, but I was raised a boy, and will act as part. Men do not cry." I shiver in fear at the determined, frightening look in her eyes.

"Oh, well well. If I knew there was going to be a student-teacher relationship between you two, I would have brought my camera!" I hear from behind us, and Hungary quickly gets off of me.

"Sorry. We were practicing. I was… Showing her a new move. Right, Thalassa?" I sit up, and nod, lying. Prussia is standing there, smirking triumphantly.

"Well," He says, with a snarky, annoying laugh, "If you excuse me, now is not the time for fighting moves. I will be taking my student now." _So Prussia is my history teacher._

"Alright. Have fun Tally!" Hungary calls, hurrying away without as much as a second glance at Prussia. _She is very good at hiding her feelings._

"I never would have thought of you as someone who likes history." I comment, as we begin walking the opposite direction of where Hungary exited.

"Eh. I have kept records since I was born." He smirks triumphantly. I raise an eyebrow at the arrogant man.

"You mean you have kept a diary since you were a kid?" I revise.

"No! It's not a diary!" He denies angrily. I grin.

"Whatever you say, Prussia."

"Now, much to your dislike, we're going to get this started." He says, and whisks me away to a 'marvelous' day of learning complete bull that I don't really need to know.

DERPDERPDERP

"Now, against what you think," Prussia starts while we're on lunch break, "I'm not teaching you the history of the world. I'm teaching you every grubby detail about all the other countries. Things you should know in case you ever go against war with them, or have to blackmail them or something."

"Oh." I say, then grin maniacally. "Yes. Perfect. Every little last detail about all of the countries… Amazing. You just became my favorite teacher, Prussia." He whacks me across the head.

"No. As a teacher, you must refer to me as Mr. Beilschmidt." He remarks. I scoff, rubbing my sore head.

"Can I call you Mr. B?" I ask. _Whack._

"No." I sigh.

"Alright… Mr. Beilschmidt. Hey, curious last name you have there. You are related to Germany, right?"

"Yeah, he's my little brother."

"And you live with him, correct?" I ask.

"Yep."

"Does that mean that 'Prussia' as a country has become one with 'Germany' as a country?" I concur.

"Well, yes." He stammers.

"Then… Shouldn't you have… Disappeared by now, or something?" I ask. He shrugs.

"Probably. But I guess the world realizes I'm too awesome to go away!" He releases his nasally laugh, which I have presumably gotten used to. "Now, what have we learned so far?"

"One." I fling my pointer finger up. "Hungary uses frying pans as her ultimate weapon. She is very strong willed, powerful, and helpful. If I ever happen to get on her bad side, I have to take her down using perverted jokes. It will make her lose focus. She is friends with Austria, Italy, Germany, America, and you. She is enemies with France and you. Peculiarly." I recite. He nods.

"Next?" Prussia prompts.

"Two. Austria doesn't fight. He uses words and quick thinking to get him out of trouble, confuse the attacker, or call for help. The help comes from Germany or Hungary. The attackers are either Switzerland or you. He uses the piano to express his feelings. Not only is his hair strand an erogenous zone, but the mole on his face as well."

"Good. And?"

"Three. You, Prussia, are a very arrogant young man. You love to fight with others, yet you have many friends. You are a sleepy drunk, and you are very punctual. You have a diary that you write in every day. You are a hard worker, although it doesn't show. You use a – what's it called? – Oh yeah! A crop as your main weapon, and you love cutesy things."

"You flatter, then flip the coin." He hisses. I continue.

"You are friends with Germany, Italy, America, England, France, Spain, and pretty much everyone. You're enemies are Austria, Hungary, and Russia. I must say, I'm not very liking of you if you're not friends with Russia." I comment.

"Yeah…" He replies.

"So, what's next?"

"You'll get to learn about everyone else for the rest of today. We have to have you prepared, after all!"

"Prepared for what?" I question hesitantly.

"World War Three! It should be starting any time now…" He shudders. "I remember World War One and Two. They were terrifying. And now that we have higher powered weapons, and smarter people… We must all be ready. It's been seventy years since the last war, and the act of kindness between everyone is wearing thin." He says it like it's nothing, and it sends chills down my spine.

_Seveny years… Any time now…_

It could happen today.

DERPDERPDERP

After the yummy lunch Hungary made, Prussia and I were sent back to the teaching room. The walls were wooden, and there was a school desk and a teacher's desk, not to mention the huge green chalkboard on the wall behind the teacher's desk. Prussia had mentioned at the very beginning that Italy and Germany were both taught here.

"Now," Prussia says when I sit at my desk and he sits at his, "Who have you met so far, since becoming a country?"

"Well… America, France, Canada, Germany, Italy, Japan, China, The Baltic's, Ukraine, Belarus, and Russia… Other than the people you have already taught me." I relate the information, and he nods.

"Alright, we'll start with America and Canada. What do you already know about them?"

"Well, America is very strong. He loves to eat, which affects his health. I'm worried for him about that. Anyway, he is very demanding, proud, self-centered, and quite an idiot." I state bluntly. "But he cares for others, and is very nice. He doesn't pressure you to do anything you don't want to, for me anyways. He is twin brothers with Canada, and is friends with everyone. He is enemies with Britain." I furrow my brows. "I've heard a lot about Britain… Is what they say true?" I ask.

"Not right now, we'll talk of him later. Tell me about Canada." Prussia prompts, and I add mentally to his list of personality traits _'On task'_.

"Canada is…" I picture him in my mind. "Canada is a mild mannered guy. He is very quiet, and apologetic, and pretty much the opposite of America. No one really remembers him; no one pinpoints him as someone they should know. He is the same height as America, but is weaker. Canada is very smart, and musically talented. He has a stuffed bear, named Kumajirou, which he takes everywhere. Because he is so quiet, and he doesn't speak up, he has no friends other than America and me. But he also has no enemies, which is quite remarkable." I smile sadly._ I miss him._

"You do?" Prussia asks.

"What?"

"You miss him? Why? You could just call him…" He comments, and I shake my head, realizing I had spoken out loud.

"No… He would just hang up after he heard it was me…" I sigh.

"Why?"

"Well… We were dating for a little while, but we broke up. He said he wasn't ready for me, and he needed to mature… I'm waiting for him, but damn, in a world full of hot guys… It's getting tough, and I'm getting impatient… I've already given my love to Russia, now…" I rub my face. "Jeez, I don't even feel any remorse for Canada any more…"

"Oh. Well, maybe we should learn about him first, then."

"I'd… I'd like that."

"Alrighty then." He turns towards the board, and scratches out with chalk in barely legible handwriting _'Canada_'.

"Now, Thalassa, Canada is a weak soul. He hates fighting. But be warned; when intrigued, he is a very strong warrior. You must be careful. He is very shy, and sensitive. He's pretty much a pussy, to state bluntly, no matter what feelings you may have for him." Prussia states, "He is easily mistaken for as America, and when he isn't, he is being forgotten of by the rest of us. America remembers him fondly. He is also very passive aggressive, and has once hit America repeatedly for about three hours. It reduced America to tears." I raise an eyebrow, and he grins. "True story."

"Who are his friends? His enemies? His main weapon?" I ask.

"He does not have very many friends, or enemies for that matter. He is close to America, France, and Britain, but Britain often forgets about him. He has no enemies. And because he doesn't fight, he doesn't have a main weapon, but a defense weapon, his AK-47. There are a few other countries who are like that, but we'll get into them later."

"Alright."

"Now, you were right on target about America. He is a proud, strong, self-centered, everything you listed. But, let me put this into detail; America is incredibly strong. Inhumanly. His main weapon is a revolver, and he will force you to do things you don't want to do. Believe me, he was raised by Britain. To take him down, scare him. He is frightened by ghosts, even ones that are obviously fake. He supposedly has an alien-"

"Yeah! Tony! He's really cool…" I comment.

"But be wary of Tony. He is a very scary being. America is also afraid of weighing scales, Marmite-"

"What's Marmite?"

"An absolutely revolting, sticky brown goop that you spread onto sandwiches."

"Ewwie."

"Yes. He is also afraid of Dora the Explorer."

"…What…?" I giggle.

"I don't even know. He just is." I grin.

"Oh, next time I see him, he is going to be so screwed…" I chuckle evilly.

"And now, moving on to the countries in Europe. Germany is very strong. Not weird strong, like America, but tough. He takes everything seriously, and always follows the rules. He has trouble relaxing. He takes care of Italy, and has had troublesome bosses. He is a neat freak, a pessimist, and has a No-Funny-Business attitude. Though he is young, he acts like an old man." Prussia snickers. "He's rather inexperienced when it comes to women, although he likes porn." I laugh along with Prussia now.

"You're terrible. That was amazing." I wipe tears out of my eyes.

"He likes to cook sweets, and goes out on drinking parties with me. He can't speak to women worth shit. He is friends with Italy, Japan, and many others. No known enemies. His main weapon is a Rifle. To beat him, you can just be yourself. He's not very used to being around women, so just, start flirting with him or something, then take the kill. Poor West, he won't even see it coming." He laughs more.

"Now," Prussia continues, "Italy is not someone who you should not worry about. He gives up easily, and surrenders without a second try. Because he doesn't do much fighting, he only uses a small pocket knife to protect himself. He is usually with Germany though, and though don't seem like they're going to be apart for a while…" Prussia coughs awkwardly. "Anyways, uh, yeah. Easygoing, flirt, and if you happen to want to catch him, make Germany surrender first."

"Okay. What about France? Is there anything I need to worry about for him?" Prussia gives me a peculiar glance, and I blush and look down. "He seems nice enough… but he is so sexually provocative, I get a little frightened by him…" I awkwardly laugh.

"Well, France is one of my main buds. He, Spain, and I are all like 'The Three Musketeers." I nod.

"Alright."

"France is very, very perverse. He is known to sexually advance on others, or streak. He is very proud, and loves anything that is beautiful. He must have taken a liking to you when you two met, right?" I blush at his comment.

"…Yeah… He's just… So awkward…"

"I agree. His main weapon of choice is a fancy sword. An actual Rapier."

"Uh…" I pale. "A… Raper?"

"No. Rapier. It's a famous sword used by men in the eighteen hundreds of France. To capture him, or to beat him, you need to use him like you do Germany. Flirt, flirt, go for the kill."

"…Seems… Easy enough…" I'm still really embarrassed, for some reason.

"Now, China is old. He's immortal, but still. Old. He loves cute things, like stuffed animals, and even though he's ancient, he hasn't learned the difference between making cute things and making copyrighted material. I always catch him crafting cheap knock offs of America's and Japan's artist natures. He uses Chinese swords and hunting knives to battle, but is occasionally seen using cooking objects, much like Hungary. She uses a frying pan, while he uses a big pot. To beat him in battle, bribe him with food or adorable things. He likes baby animals. Oh, and he is also scared of Russia."

"Russia…" I comment, looking down. "Can I call him soon? I haven't talked to him all day."

"Let me explain him to you first, then you can." Prussia considers, and continues. "Russia is a very intimidating man. Although he doesn't scare Germany, America, or me, we do agree he is a very competitive opponent to meet on the battlefield. He uses all weapons from guns to pipes to his own body. A very good fighter, I must say. He has been in such a cold, dreary state since he was a child. General Winter, not only the representation of the season of winter but also his main ally, has been on his back since day one. To beat Russia, what you must do is: Don't fight him. He's very strong, and powerful, and will crush you-"

"In the blink of an eye? Yeah, Latvia said that too." I say.

"Well, then again, for you it might be a different story. You happened to reach past his distant barrier, didn't you?"

"I… I guess so."

"Well, then. We can take a break; I need to use the pisser right now anyways. There's my cell phone on my desk." He leaves the room, and I get up, locating the phone quickly. I scroll through his contacts, and find Russia quickly, between Poland and Sealand. I still need to meet them. I press call, and put the phone to my ear.

Someone completely unexpected answers his voice breathy and quiet, like he ran to get the phone.

"H-Hello?" He stutters.

"…Canada?"


	42. Thirty-Seven

I'm so sorry I haven't updated in like a week you guys I just have so much homework and shit you guys understand right? Yeah you guys understand.

Can I do role call? If you read this chapter, write 'here!' in the review thingy. I just wanna see how many people I have actually reading this story, I dunno. :3

DUHDUHDUHDUHDUHDUHDUHDUHDUHD UHDUHDUHDUHDUHDUHDUHDUHDUHDU HDUHDUHDUHDUHDUHDUHDUHDUHDUH DUHDUHDUHDUHDUHDUH

_ I can't tell him about what happened with Russia. He can't possibly know. He can't take it. He would be devastated._

"…Thalassa?" He replies, completely awestruck, like this was the most unexpected person to answer.

"Hey, Canada. How are things? Are you doing well?" I ask, trying to keep the mood polite and happy.

"Oh, things are great, but why are you calling Russia?" He asks. _Don't say anything, Tally, don't say anything. Don't mention how you love Russia, and how you missed him so much that you had to call._

"Why are you at his house?" _Good rebuttal, Tally! Keep them coming!_

"I asked first." He comments.

"You left me first." I spit, then realize what I just said. "Ah, jeez, don't listen to what I just said. I fucked up my words." Silence. "Canada? Did the phones screw up?"

"…No…" He mutters.

"Oh… Well, ah, could you hand the phone to Russia? I need to talk to him."

"…Alright, I guess… I still want to know why you're calling him." He repeats.

"I still want to know why you're at his house, and how you're really doing, but I guess some questions will stay unanswered."

"Yeah… I'll go find Russia. Oh, wait, here he is."

"Oh, Canada?"

"Yeah?"

"I still miss you."

There's a long silence after my confession.

"…I… Miss you too." He responds shakily, and I hear murmurs after that.

"Hello?" A new voice greets.

"Hi Russia! How have you been? How is everyone? Are you doing okay? Why's Canada there?" I fire the questions hurriedly, as if I don't have much time to visit with him.

"I have been doing okay, yeah. The Baltic's are doing okay too, they are getting along. Lithuania is starting to get on Belarus's good side, surprisingly. Latvia's voice cracked, and Estonia is the same as usual." I giggle at Latvia's news. He is in that age range, I'm surprised he didn't hit it earlier. "Canada is here because he and I are talking about becoming allies for the upcoming war."

"…Not to be harsh, Russia, but why Canada? If anything, he's going to stay neutral, and I know you are rather particular to war…"

"He said he isn't going to sit this one out. I think he wants to finally become a man, and I want to help him with the difficult task."

"Hey!" I hear Canada shout from the other side of the call.

"Well, if that happens, let me know. I think you two should work together anyways, maybe with America too. He's very strong, if you haven't noticed."

"Yeah. We noticed."

"Well, awesome. I just wanted to call and ask. I miss you, it's so weird here. Prussia is way too arrogant for his own good."

"You really think so?" I jump nearly a foot in the air from the response that came from behind me, and turn to find Prussia standing there, arms crossed, grinning evilly. "Shame on you, talking behind others backs. Now I have to discipline you. End the call."

"W-what?" I ask.

"End. The. Call." He replies patiently, walking over to the desk.

"Okay I'll talk to you later Russia Prussia's being mean I got to go love you tell everyone I say hi-" The phone is taken from me, and the end button is pressed. Prussia clicks his tongue.

"Well, well, well. Shame. Put your hands out, palms down." I reluctantly do as asked. _Whack._ His palm stings the backs of my hands, and I gasp at the blunt force, tears starting to fill my eyes.

"Sit down. We have more learning to do."

It's almost eleven when I finally flop onto the bed. I learned every last gruesome little detail of needed information about every country in the world. _What class do I have tomorrow_? I can't remember at the moment.

Knowing that it will annoy me until I remember or find out, I get up, and find my schedule. I scan it, and realize I have Music tomorrow. At least it's something I understand, I guess. The bed looks very inviting. I want to sleep. Now.

I slowly crawl into bed, not even bothering to change my clothes._ I'm so tired. I miss everyone. But I need to learn all of this 'needed' stuff. Got to be ready for the war. I hope everyone's wrong, and there isn't a war. There doesn't need to be a war. No war._


	43. Thirty-Eight

I hear the alarm, but it doesn't frighten me as bad as it did yesterday. I rise, and glancing outside, decide on a cream wool sweater and light blue skinny jeans. I don't think I'll be leaving the house, so I add some fuzzy green socks to the outfit and put my unwashed hair into a high ponytail. Hungary comes in, also right after I finish dressing, just like yesterday.

"Do you watch me change to make sure I'm completely dressed or something? You always come in right after I finish changing…" I ask. She blushes.

"I do not! I just happen to hear your alarm go off, and then I wait until I'm absolutely positive you've finished getting ready. Anyways, time for your next class, right? Let's go!" My cheeks redden as she grabs my elbow to guide me to the room. We head a different way to get to a different room. This room has a collection of music devices. There's an upright piano against a wall, and both an electric and acoustic guitar next to it. There's a drum set in an opposite corner, and a bass guitar next to it. A violin, a viola, a cello, and a double bass stand in another corner, and there's one or two brass instruments strung around. In the middle of the musical mess, there's a microphone, standing tall and proud. It's an old microphone, the type from the thirties or forties. Very retro.

"You're teacher should be in shortly." Hungary informs, and leaves. I stand, and begin walking slowly around the room, studying the instruments. Who will my teacher for this class be? Hungary didn't give me any information about them, so my mind is very open to anyone. I can't think of anyone that it might be, so I sit at the piano. Thoughts swirl through my mind.

_-Sonatas, Minuets, grungy licks… I learn it all. My mother teaches me the simplest, uncomplicated things. Then it gets harder. I'm learning Bach, Mozart, Chopin… I can play it all. Everything known, I can play. Canons, light music, sad music… It's what I like best. I can feel the power surging through my fingers, and I love it. I love it, I love it-_

Before I can stop myself, I begin playing. It's quiet at first, but grows louder, faster, stronger. The music sweeps through the room, and my fingers flutter quickly in a dance memorized by heart before I can remember. The music begins pacing itself, and I begin to play faster, faster, faster. _Unstopping. I'm stuck. I have to finish the song before I can stop. My fingers are cramping, I need help. Hurry._ I finally play the last chord, and rip my fingers from the keyboard, examining them. The palms of my fingers are red, from the harsh playing and pounding and quick movement. I rub them together, unwinding the muscles.

"Very good. I knew you were good. That was… Avalanche, by Klabevski?" I hear from behind me. I turn to find someone who I should have completely expected to be my teacher. Austria.

"Heller." I say before I can stop myself. I cover my mouth, then realize. _I'm right. Heller composed Avalanche in the eighteen hundreds._ "He was a Hungarian composer, made the etude I just played in the eighteen hundreds…"

"Ah, yes. I should have figured. You're very good. Is there anything else you play, other than the piano?"

"No, just piano." _Wrong._ "Wait…"

_-I was forced to play guitar in fifth grade. I played ukulele the year before, and learned how to sing too-_

"I can play some guitar, some ukulele, and can sing." I repeat my thoughts, and he raises an eyebrow.

"Let's see it, then. I don't have all day."

He had all day, against his word. I've played everything I could remember on the piano, guitar, and violin. He doesn't want to see me try singing yet. It's eleven in the afternoon now, and Austria is such a prissy rich person he wanted brunch. Not breakfast. Not lunch. Brunch. Hungary comes in with his meal, and asks if I want anything. I shake my head.

"Unlike Rich Boy over here, I eat breakfast in the morning, and I'll go on lunch break." I inform. Austria gives me a rude glare and continues eating his sugary meal. I thank Hungary for asking, and she leaves.

"Now," Austria continues after finishing his food, "Let's hear this voice of yours." He goes to sit at the piano, and look at me. "You grew up in America, yes?" I nod. "What years do you remember living there?"

"In the early two thousands." I recall, going back.

_-I'm sitting in the car with my mother, listening to something smooth, mellow. Something by Coldplay, I think. It's calming, and soothing, but listening to the music gives me a sad feeling, hearing the lyrics gives me goose bumps. Yet, I can't stop hearing the chorus after exiting the car-_

"Alright. I'll get started. Do you know Maroon 5?" I raise an eyebrow.

"Who doesn't? What do they have to do with anything?"

"I know my piano music, even things from other countries that are relatively hip." I snicker.

"You aren't hip if you say hip. That's so eighties."

"Oh. Well, I'm going to play a song by them then." He starts playing, and I can't stop myself from singing. The song is Cupid's Chokehold by Gym Class Heroes. _Why did he bring up Maroon 5? _I don't care. I love this song. I sing it through his playing, and when the songs ends, my consciousness returns. I wasn't myself when singing.

"Why…" I hesitate. "Why did you bring up Maroon 5?"

"Wasn't that them?" He asks.

"No, that was Gym Class Heroes."

"Eh, same thing." I raise an eyebrow at the accusation, and he shrugs it off.

"Well, I must say, you are a very good singer. Did you have a teacher?"

"No, I learned by myself."

"Exquisite. Well taught, I believe." I smile.

"Gracias, Senior." He smiles, but very quickly, and I barely catch it before he scowls.

"The only problem was your diction! You must pronounce every word with precise movements!" I sigh. _So much for 'exquisite'._

The rest of the day was used entirely on learning to properly pronounce words. No, really. My tongue and lips were swollen when I returned to my room. I crawled onto the bed, and leaned against the head frame, pulling my knees up to my chin. Although I can't feel my mouth, I believe today was a very fun day. Austria is a bit of a prick, but he's nice enough. I kind of feel bad for Hungary, having to deal with that goody-two-shoes, everything-goes-my-way type of personality every day. _No wonder she fell for Prussia. But then, Prussia egotistic, and flamboyant, and just about as conceited as you can get. Poor Hungary, she never had a good choice between either of them…_

I should try finding her someone better to choose from.

Tomorrow.


	44. Thirty-Nine

This time, I'm awake before the alarm. When it goes off, I continue to fix my hair, and afterwards hit the snooze button. I want to explore today. I sneak out of my room, take a quick glance around, and turn left down the hall. I pass pictures of Hungary with multiple people and by herself. Most of the pictures consist of Hungary and Austria, but there are a few with her and Prussia, or even her and Japan, much to my curiosity. There was one picture of her with a little girl. Hungary and the child wore matching outfits, green knee length old dresses with white aprons on the front. They both had what looked like a shower cap on, and while Hungary's hair was long, the little girl's was short. The child's eyes were brown, and there was one strand of hair flipping up, curling slightly at the end. _This wasn't a girl! This is Italy! _I smile, snickering. _So adorable._

I continue walking, turning when the hall did. Wow, this house is huge. I better be careful, or I might get lost. Then I see someone I recognize. Speak of the devil himself.

"Italy!" I run forward, and tackle him from behind. He grunts, and because his balance was offset, we topple to the ground.

"You dirty bastard…" He grumbles, in a tone unlike Italy's. "Eat lead, you douche bag!" He flips me over, and pins me down. This isn't Italy. He stares me dead in the eye, and that's when I notice it.

Italy's eyes aren't green. Italy's hair is a light brown, not a dark brown. And his curl goes to the left, not the right. The man above me glares harshly at me, while my gaze is more curious and dumbfounded.

"You aren't Italy…" I comment, and his stare, if possible, grew even more angered. This guy, whoever he is, is really pissed off.

"I'm his brother, you fucker!" He spits out.

"Oh." I easily slip out of his grasp, and stand quickly, holding out a hand to him. "Pleased to meet you, I'm Thalassa." He blinks a few times, and rises, crossing his arms.

"You're my student for the day? Great. Fucking great." I look at him, shocked.

"You're my Weapons and Fighting teacher?" I say, and giggle. "Well, it already seems I know more than you…" He glares at me, and I raise my hands in surrender. "Alright! Alright! Jeez, if looks could kill, I'd at least have some sort of cancer on me by now…" He huffs, and walks past me.

"C'mon. We better start now, because I know we'll spend a lot of time fighting, both for training and realistically." I follow behind him.

"What's your name?" I ask.

"South Italy, but everyone calls me Romano." He says, still irritated.

"Hey… If you can barely handle me, how do you handle Italy?" I laugh a little. He abruptly halts, and I bump into him.

"With much struggle. Every time I see him, I would nearly bust his head in, if it wasn't for that potato-eating bastard."

"Germany? You don't like Germany?" I ask.

"The very thought of him pisses me off."

"You seem kind of harsh, but I like the way you talk. Everyone is way too proper and neat here. You're a sight for sore eyes, to put it bluntly." He raises an eyebrow, glancing back at me. For a minute, he looks happy, pleased, even excited.

"…Get off of my back, weirdo." Romano retorts. He didn't cuss. That's a start.

He continues to walk forward. I regain my balance, and join him. He leads me outside.

I am met with a cool wind, and leaves blow around me. My big fluffy jacket I picked out for the day keeps my torso warm, but the black skinny jeans and red rain boots that match with the jacket don't do any justice for my legs and lower. My ears are freezing, and my breath is coming out in white puffs of smoke. That's how I know it's autumn. There may not be any snow, but the temperature is so frigid that you can't help but shiver. Even if you're unnaturally warm, like myself.

"W-where are we going?" I ask.

"Outside chambers. That's where the weapons are kept." He walks into the mass of forest, and I pace, trying to keep up with his steady strides. He's the same height as Italy, which makes him the same height as me. I quietly eye his back. He's wearing a black zip up jacket, and baggy-but-not-too-baggy jeans. The sneakers leave a hexagon pattern on mud we walk over, letting me know that he's wearing Vans, if I remember shoes correctly. I directly eye his ass. It's rather nice, I must say. I wonder where he gets it from-

"Stop looking at my ass. Hoe." I chuckle.

"You're gay, aren't you? Callin' me a hoe like that." I snicker. He whips around, revealing a sharp looking dagger, pointed straight at my neck.

"Say another thing like that, and I'll kill you." There's an awkward silence, and I look into his eyes. I don't see truth. I see hesitation, and maybe a little fear. There's also anger.

"…You wouldn't. I can tell. You may beat on people, and call them cruel names, but… You wouldn't do that. You may seem cold, and harsh, but you're still Italy, in some aspects." I comment, and easily swipe the knife from him, toying with it in my chilled fingers. "Oh, and by the way, nice Dive Knife. Very practical, but not tactical. You might want to carry something more impressive." I smile, and hand him the knife back. "Teach me your ways, master."

The day didn't go so bad. Romano is actually easy to get along with, and I learned a lot about knives, his main specialty weapon.

"…Alright. We'll start training with the bigger knifes. Let's see what you can do." He gives me a machete. I look at it, then look at him.

"What do I aim for?" I grin. He shudders visibly. _Ha._

"You… Aim for the column, right there." He points towards a wooden pole, holding the weight of the roof. With a quick flick of the wrist, a lengthened arm, a rigid torso, and a deep breath, I send the knife straight for the pole.

It flies over Romano's head, who was standing on the opposite side of the room. He jumps. I giggle.

"Sorry. I'm more trained with my fists. I tried though, right?" I optimize. He nods.

"Yeah, you tried. Let me show you." He walks to where I am standing, and I move out of the way. "First," He names, "Point one foot where you're aiming. It's usually the one that is on the same side as the throwing hand. Your throwing hand is your writing hand." He follows what he was saying. "Next, you raise your arm over and around your head, making an arch with your arm. And…" He flings his raised arm up and over, releasing the knife, stabbing right into the wooden beam. I blink.

"Wow. Every time, it works?"

"Usually. But don't fling too hard, or you'll hurt your muscles." I stand in front of him.

"Pointed toe, arm up…" I note quietly, raising my arm to the needed position. "Fling."

The knife spins through the air, stabbing perfectly into the column.

"Fuck yeah." I mutter, releasing a breath of air I didn't know I was holding.

"Good job, you're a natural." I smile at Romano's compliment.

"Thanks. What's next?"

"Well… There's stabbing, slicing, and chopping, all with the big and small knifes."

"Do I get a butterfly knife? I like those ones…" He looks at me, and I blush. "Sorry."

"Well, I can train you for one, if you like." He stammers, blushing. I grin, and bear hug him.

"That would be awesome! Thank you!" He tenses, and awkwardly pats my back.

"No… Uh… Problem…" He mumbles.

"Let's do this!"

"Okay, first…"

He said that after lunch we would learn the ways of guns and other weapons. I was, for some reason, looking forward to it.

"Let's go to the dining hall." Romano suggests, and I raise an eyebrow.

"…We have a dining hall? Where at?"

"C'mon, idiot. Follow me." He puts a tight, painful grip around my arm. I look at it.

"You're… Strong…" I comment. He grimaces and loosens his grip, taking the hint.

"…Thanks…" He coughs. "Let's go." He leads me through the garden, and back into the house. We pass Prussia, who is also on his way, and he joins us.

"How was your learning for today? What'd Romano teach you? The ways of surrendering?" Prussia jabs, snickering. I blink, and see Prussia on his knees, Romano standing above him.

"Potato eating bastard. Just like your brother, fuck-hole." He turns and walks off. I send a glance of apology towards Prussia, and follow Romano. It takes a moment to realize pacing wouldn't get to him, causing me to break into a jog, then a sprint. I twist and turn through the maze of halls and doors, and finally come to a shaded, dank corridor. I see a large lump on the floor, and walk towards it, fear creeping through my body. Closer inspection reports that this is a person, hugging their knees to their chest.

It's Romano.

I move to stand in front of him, falling to my knees.

"Are you… Okay?" I ask hesitantly.

"…I guess…" He mutters. I part his legs a little, peering in to his face.

He's crying.

"…Liar. You aren't okay. Come here." I lean back, and his legs snap shut.

"No." He denies. I cross my arms.

"Don't make me do it by force." I imply.

"I'm not moving." Before he can blink, I'm in between his legs, my arms around him. He struggles against my intense bear hug, making us both go from sitting to laying.

"What the hell are you doing?" He strangles out. I hug him tighter.

"Something no one did for me. Consoling you." After a few moments, he stops fighting, and lies limp. I smile lightly, resting my chin on his shoulder. "Am I doing a good job?"

"…" He sighs. "... You're crazy."

"I'm doing a good job." I reply.

"Whatever." He muffles into my shoulder. I feel the wet tear marks seeping into my clothes.

"C'mon. I'm hungry. Food will make you feel better."

"I don't want to."

"Would you rather tell me why you're sobbing in an abandoned hallway because of some petty jab that that asshole made? I don't see how she could possibly like him…" He gives me a confused glance, and I shake my head. "You don't need, nor want to know."

"I… I'm sick of being a pussy. That's why I'm crying."

"You're not a pussy."

"Yes I am. Everyone picks on me, and I try to be strong, but…" He sniffles. "I can't. I have to have Spain protect me all the time. I want to be big, and mean, like the mafia." I snicker.

"The mafia?"

"They're so scary, and they get what they want… I want to be like that…"

"No you don't. Sure, the mafia is strong and brave but…" I shudder. "They're too scary. You wouldn't be picked on, but everyone would be afraid of you."

"Maybe… Maybe that's what I want!" I rub his head.

"Non, you don't want that. Trust me." We sit like this, in the middle of a hallway, cuddling, for a few minutes, until Romano stops crying.

"Romano… How old are you?" I ask.

"I'm twenty-three."

"In real years?"

"…One hundred fifty-one."

"Damn, you're young."

"Compared to you?"

"No, compared to everyone else. That's really young." I comment.

"Yeah."

"I heard that if you're born a country, then you age by centuries. Shouldn't you look younger?"

"Until you reach the physical age of eighteen, you age by the amount of citizens you have and how big your country is." Romano explains.

"So, I have to gain more people if I want to look older than sixteen?" I clarify.

"Yeah."

"What if someone was to lose people after they reach eighteen?"

"You would stop at whatever age you reach, but begin feeling stressed and sick. Eventually, if enough people leave, you will die."

"How do you know so much?"

"It… Happened to my Grandpa Rome… and to Spain, once." Romano reveals. "When I was a young child, Grandpa Rome, also known as the Roman Empire, took Veneziano to raise. While he was being raised by my Grandpa, I was sent to Spain, because I was 'too difficult to deal with'. Veneziano learned art and music and manners, while I learned pain and cleaning and war. When I heard Rome had died, I asked why. 'You'll understand when you're older,' Spain said. Veneziano went to live with Austria and the Holy Roman Empire. I was friends with Holy Rome, but we weren't very close.

"When I first went to live with Spain, he was nice enough. Stupid bastard protected me for everything I was worth. He took on Turkey, France, and Austria, all for me. He… didn't want to lose me. He once spent all of his money on me, while he himself was suffering. I finally had grown up, when the last fight over me happened. During World War Two, I was kidnapped by Britain. Spain came to my rescue, of course, and won. Barely. He nearly died, the stupid bastard… He was so very sick, with his shitty economy; I didn't know what to do. He needed medicine, badly. I did everything in my power to help him. I bought many things from him then, just trying to get him money. I even went again the mafia! It was so frightening… But then he was okay. It was so fucking stressful; I nearly exploded when he turned out to be alright, the tomato eating bastard!" He spits everything out forcefully and quickly.

I am speechless. I just think about this. Questions swirled through my head. _Why didn't Rome take Romano? Who is Veneziano? Why was Romano difficult to deal with? When the hell am I going to meet Spain? When am I going to meet Britain? What would become of me if that stuff happened? Could it happen to me? Possibly, considering I'm a newborn, pretty much. _I didn't ask any of these questions yet. I only asked one.

"…You grew up quickly, huh? That's why you're older than you should be at the moment, right?" I ask. He nods slowly.

"…Yeah…"

"…I like you, Romano. I don't think you're hard to deal with." I comment, and I can literally feel the warmth from his burning cheeks.

"…Thank you…" He mumbles. I stand up, pulling away from him. He looks up at me, and I hold out a hand.

"C'mon. I'm hungry. Let's go eat." He sits up, rubbing his head. He looks back up at me, looks down at my hand, and I see a faint smile grace his lips. He grabs my hand, and I pull him up.

"Let's go."


	45. Forty

I'M SO SORRY I HAVEN'T UPDATED IN LIKE A WHILE YOU GUYSSSSSS ;_; /creys

Here you go Merry Christmas you little shits.

! #$%^&*()((*&^%$# ! #$%^&*()(*&^%$# ! #$&*()(*&^$%# #$%^*()^$# #$&*(*&^%$#$%&*(&^$%#$%^&*&%$^&%^&

The dining room isn't hard to find. When I reach it, aside from prior knowledge, it is actually smaller than I thought it would be. Romano was calling it the dining hall like it was some huge eatery. There was a decently large rectangular wooden table, with matching chairs around it, two to each thin side and about seven to the longer ones. Chairs for eighteen people.

Five of the chairs are full. Unlike the surprise party for me at America's house, I know more people here than I did then. Austria, Prussia, and Hungary sit on one side. Hungary is tending to Prussia, who has a large swell mark on his cheek, and a black eye, caused by Romano. Austria is eating silently. One person I don't want to recognize. France is sitting, sipping a red-violet liquid out of a glass. I presume the liquid to be wine. He looks at me, and we stare, open mouthed, wide eyed, and completely dumb stricken at each other. He lessens the expression first, sending me a wink before continuing to converse with the gentleman next to him. That gentleman is the only one I can't place to anyone I have ever met.

He is tan, with curly brown hair. He's mid-laugh, but when he opens up his eyes, they're the same color as Romano's, a bright green. Most likely the same color as mine, now that I recall my eye color. He looks past France, passes me with disinterest, but his eyes not only lock but completely brighten at the sight of Romano.

"Roma!" He cries, jumping from the chair and tackling Romano with the supreme force of America. Romano turns a bright red, shoving the older man from him.

"Fuck you, Boss." He spits. 'Boss' just laughs and pats Romano on the back, pulling the curled hair slightly. I gasp. _Doesn't he know…?_

The 'Boss' receives a plaintive whopping kick to the face.

"You stupid pervert." Romano scolds. The man just chuckles.

"Sorry, Romano. You're as red as a tomato!"

"Well, I wouldn't be so fucking red, if you wouldn't treat me like that, Spain." Romano growls. _So this man… Is Spain? _I watch quietly as they bicker, taunting yet joking in a way. Romano doesn't hit Spain when he makes crude jokes. Spain keeps laughing and joking.

_They like each other. _It's so obvious, I barely know either of them and it's right in my face. They're so obvious. Spain finally takes notice in me.

"Oh, are you Thalassa?" His accent is definitely Spanish, and his voice is smooth. I blush vigorously at the thought of assessing his voice.

"Ah, yeah. You can call me Tally, though. Seriously." I laugh awkwardly; everyone's eyes are on me. _What do I do?_

"Alright, Tally. I can't wait for tomorrow!" Spain comments and laughs. _Tomorrow?_

"What's tomorrow?" I ask.

"I will teach you to dance!" He laughs again.

"O-Oh…" I mumble. "I… Ah… I'm hungry… I'm going to go make some food…" I quickly leave the situation, while everyone begins scolding Spain, saying he 'ruined the surprise', or something. I scan the cupboards, the fridge, and eventually come up with some bread, meat, and condiments. I make myself a meat sandwich, with what I believe to be mustard and mayonnaise. I also locate some chips of some sort, and return to the dining room. Everyone eyes me curiously, and that's when I notice their meals. Romano doesn't have a plate yet, but everyone was eating some sort of pasta with potatoes.

_Fuck. I fucked up._ Blushing furiously, I sit down at one end of the table, quickly shoving my face into my meal, to keep from talking. Everyone openly stares at me. _Fuck, fuck, fuck._ I mentally hit myself. _Why did I do this? What is wrong with me? Why didn't I see the open crock-pots at one side of the room, full of potatoes and noodles? _I finish quickly; mumble something about going back to the classroom to Romano, and leave. I stumble through the halls, not knowing where I'm going. I finally give up, leaning against the wall and sliding into a sitting position. I bury my face into my pulled-up legs. _What is wrong with me? Why can't I do anything right?_

_-I accidentally play a note wrong-_

_-I have no one to sit with, we move towns too much-_

_-I said the wrong answer-_

_-I forgot to do the dishes-_

_-I left home-_

_-I ran out on Uncle-_

_-I was found by the Canadian police-_

All of the memories of anything I have ever done wrong, swell up inside my brain. I sniff, crying. I can't help it; I release a sad, pent up giggle. _I'm insane._

"I… can't do anything right…" I whisper, giggling. "I never have. I never will. All of those people, everyone around me… They all look at me, embarrassed. 'Why is she like this? Was she raised wrong? Now she's talking to herself…' Ha! They think that's bad, I'll just show them what I can really do!" I burst into a fit of maniacal laughter. "Oh, man. If only Uncle Oliver could see me now…" I lean my head back against the wall, choking on my laughing sobs. _My hair must be a raggedy mess, _I think, which brings me more giggles against my will. That's when I notice Romano.

He had come after me, and followed me to the very place I'm sitting. He's standing, staring down at me.

"You like to watch people cry? Romano, that's a very bad habit." I taunt, snicker-sniffling. He scoffs.

"I'm sorry for being worried about you. What happened back there?"

"I…" I cough. "I fucked up. I got embarrassed, and left." He sits down next to me.

"That's not the entire reason, is it?" He mumbles. I laugh, shaking my head.

"Of course not. If I knew the entire reason, I would probably be crying more than laughing right now." I smile sadly, running a hand through my disheveled hair. "I'm… a little psycho, I believe."

"…Everyone is a little crazy, some more than others." Romano comments. I look over at him.

"Oh, really? I never knew…" I giggle, and hiccup. "Now, watch as I laugh too much and choke on my own slobber and tears and snot." He pulls out a tissue, from god knows where.

"Use this, idiot." I politely take it, and wipe my eyes clean.

"You know," I blow my nose, "I have never actually used one of these. Not since…"

_-"Here, it looks like you could use this." The man spoke to me in a British accent. I glance up into the man's' light brown eyes. His hair is dark blonde, curled slightly at the tips. I turn my gaze to the hankie he holds in his hand._

"_I can't take that. I don't deserve it. I don't deserve anything." I reply shortly, and the man squats next to me._

"_I can't believe you think that. Everyone has a life worth living. I'm offering the hankie, which means that I believe you deserve it. Take the bloody tissue." He argues._

"…_If you insist." I snap, swiping the hankie from his hand. He sighs in relief. I clear my face of any liquids, and hold the tissue up. "What… do I do with this…?" I ask. He holds out a hand._

"_I guess I'll take it, I needed to wash it anyway." He answers, placing it in his pocket. Ew. "What's your name?" He turns back towards me._

"_I… I'm… Tally…" I reply. "What's your name?"_

"_You can call me Uncle Oliver. I'll take care of you, don't worry, Tally the American."_

"_H-how'd you know?" I ask._

"_Accents, dearie. Accents."-_

I laugh.

"I hate these things." I comment, holding up the used cloth.

"Well I'll just take it back then, hoe." Romano reaches for it, but I quickly hold it out of his reach.

"No. I'll keep it… This time…" I chuckle. Romano doesn't know.

Nobody knows, not even me.

_Yet._

Romano tried to get the explanation out of me, but to no avail. I just smiled at him, and walked back to the classroom, drying my tears. He followed silently.

"Teach me. I want to learn." I state contentedly, plopping into my chair. He walks in front of me, glancing into my eyes. For a moment, he just stares, trying to figure me out. I smile. _So naïve. How adorable. Don't get me wrong, I love Romano. He just… Doesn't understand me. Never will._

I was there the entire day, learning how to kill a man 173 different ways.

Sleep came easy.


	46. Forty-One

_I woke up late._

_I didn't mean to. It just kind of happened._

_I feel ashamed._

Hungary knocked loudly on my door, rousing me from my sleep.

"C'mon, Tally, you're going to learn to-" She stops when she sees me, curled up warmly in my blankets, my face peeking out. "Tally? Don't tell me you just woke up! Oh no! Hurry, you must get ready!" She rushes over, and yanks me out of bed. Roughly. I fall onto the floor.

"Ow… Fine…" I tug a brush through my hair, before putting it into a big sloppy bun on the top of my head. No makeup. A pair of warm black sweats, and a green tank top. I shaved yesterday, so I'm not all prickly and gross.

"Let's go." I rush. Hungary eyes me over.

"You sure?"

"Don't care. I'm just going to be sitting at a desk all day, right?" I raise an eyebrow. She grins mischievously and shrugs.

"We'll see." She pulls me out of the bedroom, and down the hallway, taking a right. First door on the left.

Oh hell.

It's, of all things, a dance studio.

Let's get this straight. I don't dance. I never have. I was never enrolled into any tap or ballet as a kid, and I'm more comfortable behind the scenes of something. I would rather be the live band or work the lights than socialize and dance.

"Fuck…" I mutter. Great.

"Hi, Tally! Remember me?" I turn to look at Spain. He's grinning happily, standing in front of me in a pair of workout shorts and a tank top himself. His is red, and the shorts are black. He's wearing sneakers, while I'm barefoot.

"…Should I go get some shoes?" I want to escape this situation, and run away. Not only is Spain ridiculously good looking, but I know he, Prussia, and France are all friends. They all are on the same block of pervert tendencies and charming ways.

_In simple terms, I'm screwed._

"No, I was going to take mine off."

"I'll be leaving you two. Have fun!" Hungary rushes off. I'm left alone with Spain. His bright green eyes match mine, and his sunny tan and dark hair make his eyes seem more vibrant.

_Yep. I'm screwed._

"What do you want to learn first? Do you know anything already?" He asks, walking forward.

"Uh… Here's the thing…" I state slowly, backing up. "I… don't really dance…"

"Oh, really? We'll start easy then!" He swiftly jumps forward before I can blink, wrapping an arm around my waist. "Now, one-two step-"

I deliver a swift punch to his pretty face. He falls backward. I widen my eyes, looking at my hand. It's slowly unclenching.

"Oh shit! I am so sorry! Fucking hand…" I cry out an apology, worried for the stranger.

"It's… Alright…" He groans. "Wow, you can throw a punch harder than Roma…"

"Uh… Thanks… Sorry about that, it's a bit of a bad habit. I'm not very good with physical contact to people I don't know, let alone contact that I didn't start…" I feel my face heating up. "Are you okay?" I walk over to him, collapsing at his fallen body. "Let me see."

"Alrighty." He moves his hand. His left cheek is already turning red, with thick purple stripes, from my fingers pressing against his face.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" I curse. "I'll need to get you a wet rag, and a cold pack." I stand up, but he pulls me back down.

"Call for Hungary. She'll hear, she'll help." I raise an eyebrow.

"No, I can get it myself-"

"Call. For. Hungary. Or Romano. Don't leave. We still need to work." I nod, and head towards the intercom. _There's a big white box of an intercom in every room, did I forget to mention that?_ I call for Romano. He picks up quickly.

"Thalassa?" He asks.

"Yeah… Ah… I hit Spain-"

"You bitch! I'm going to beat the shit out of you! You can't hurt Boss like that!"

"- And he won't let me leave to get help. He wanted me to call you."

"I ought to- Wait, for me?"

"Yes, you. He said he wanted you. Bring a wet cloth and some ice, would you?"

"…Okay… But I'm still going to beat the shit outta you!"

"Love you too, bastard." I release my finger from the button, and turn to Spain. He's sitting up, holding his face. He looks at me.

"Is it bad?" One side of his face is swollen.

"Ah… The ice will make the swelling go down, but… I'm sorry. I should bruise myself, so you won't be the only one beat up." He waves his hands frantically.

"No! Don't do that! I don't need that!" He rises quickly, teetering a little before stumbling towards me.

"You also seem to have a concussion. Fuck, I'm a dumb ass… I can't believe I did that…" I smack myself on the hand. "Bad Tally. Bad, bad, bad Tally." He grabs my hand.

"Stop that. It's not your fault. I should have asked your permission or something." I glance up at him. He stares determinedly at me. He's nearly a head taller than me.

"I should have known you were going to be like that, just from your happy personality. I'm sorry." I reply. He shakes his head.

"No, forgive me."

"No," I harden my gaze. "Forgive me."

"Forgive me." He repeats.

"Forgive me."

"Forgive me."

"Bastard-" He hugs me whilst I'm replying. I struggle. "What the hell are you doing!?"

"Please Roma, forgive me… I'm sorry… I didn't mean to… I don't-"

"Spain? Are you alright-" Spain and I turn to look at Romano. Then I realize how bad this must look. Spain's holding me tight in his embrace. One of my legs is up to his waist, preparing to kick him.

_Fuck!_

"Uh…" Romano looks down, blushing. "I'll just… Come back, later…" He drops the rag and ice, and the ice spill out of the premade packet, sliding across the floor in a glittery haze of death.

"Romano! Wait!" I call, but he's already halfway down the hallway.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck! Fucking little merde! Ass hat! Putain, putain, putain!" I cuss in two languages, my brain melting into one. I glare fiercely at Spain.

"What?" He asks.

"Let go of me, tu Salop." I shove him angrily. He stumbles backward, and I start running to the door.

"Where are you going!?"

"To help Romano!"

"Why?" I stop at this, and turn towards him.

"More like, why aren't you running after him, tu flirteur! Il aime vous! N'avez-vous pas l'aimer aussi?" I translate over to French on accident. I don't even know if he understands what I'm saying. I turn around, about to rush for the door once again.

"What… He likes me? I thought…" Spain looks dumbfounded. So he understands French.

"C'est des conneries! I'm going after him!" I declare.

"Je suis venir, je suis venir…" He whispers, and I run out, Spain following quickly after. We run, passing confused workers and servants. We come across Hungary, who points us into the right direction. How she knows where he's headed, I know not, but I heed the advice gratefully. We rush outside. I don't even notice that I'm still barefoot, we're moving so fast.

"Romano! Where are you?!" I scream, spinning wildly. I spy bushes moving, when there is no wind, and sprint to them. I part them to reveal a secret passage. Without checking to see if Spain is behind me, I run down the dirt path. The sticks and occasional rock sting the bottoms of my feet, but I keep running. "Romano!"

_And then I'm flying._

_It's peaceful, really. Everything in my life is so sudden, I just want things to slow down, before I get left behind. I watch my feet fly above my head, covered in guck and… blood. My blood. I am so determined to find Romano and explain, I'm not worried about my own safety. That's why I stumbled, after all. Spain is staring at me idiotically, then is glancing behind me. I spy Romano. He looks at the situation, and stands up from his resting place, a broken log decayed by termites. His face is covered in tears._

_I hit the ground. It hurts, but I'm okay. Nothing is too bad. Spain and Romano kneel over me. I laugh insanely, but it is silent because the wind has been knocked out of me._

"Tally! Can you hear me?" I nod, my eyes closed tightly, my mouth open in a maniacal grin.

"We're going to help you! We need to get you back to the house!" I'm hoisted onto someone's shoulder. I expect it to be Spain, who is the bigger and bulkier of the two, but Romano's wispy backside is what I see. Something drips from my face, and I find it to be tears. I'm crying.

"Ro… I'm sor…" I wheeze. "I… Not like… that…" Spain looks at me, then looks at Romano's butt. He grins, but it's quickly replaced by a look of guilt as he looks at the back of Romano's head.

"Roma… You know very well it isn't like that. I don't like her like that!" He gestures towards me wildly.

"Not right now, bastard. We'll talk later." Romano huffs, speeding up.

"No, we need to-" Spain starts.

"We can't right now!" Romano whirls around to face Spain. I nearly feel sick from the spinning. "Can't you see? I'm kind of busy helping this dick-face who, even though they pick on me, and tease me, and show no care for my own feelings… I can't help but love… And then there's Tally, who's stupid enough to get in the way!" Romano shouts. "Don't you see? You can't even get it through your thick fucking skull-"

"-Romano-" Spain tries.

"-You can't even begin to comprehend-"

"-Romano!-"

"-Ever since I was a little kid, boss! Ever since then-"

"-I love you, Roma."

"And I-" Romano is about to continue his rant, but stops. "You… What?"

"I love you. I always have."

"B-but… No… You… Can't… You don't…" Romano's grip around my thighs over his back loosens. "You… You're kidding… I know it, you don't understand… You're pitying me, for falling for someone as player-istic as you." I see Spain shake his head.

"You see…" He steps closer. "You're the reason behind my charming ways. If you weren't there, I would have settled down with someone, like Belgium. Whenever I went out on a date, or dancing, sure. I would have a fling or two. But they never lasted long. Only a few days, or a couple of hours. I would always come back to you. I always played, because I knew there was no way I would be able to be with those women. I love you too much. Peculiarly enough, you're the only guy I've ever loved. I've never loved a man before. It's rather comforting." That's the most I've ever heard Spain say. Romano gasps.

"You… Bastard…" And once again, I'm falling. I crumple onto the dirt ground silently. Romano and Spain hug. Romano's still crying. Then they kiss. It's soft, and delicate. I realize it's awkward to watch other people kiss. I would look away, but look back, to find them still kissing.

"Aw." I coo. "So adorable. While I bleed to death, you two play tonsil hockey. How nice." They break apart, and for once, Romano's smiling. A real, genuine smile.

"Right, bitch. Let's get you fixed up." Romano resumes carrying me over his shoulder. The rest of the walk home was pleasant, aside from my stinging, open scratches and welts. Even though the talk was polite, Romano and Spain thought I wouldn't notice them holding hands on the other side of me.


	47. Forty-Two

When we reenter the mansion of a house, we are swarmed by the others.

"Tally, are you okay!?" Hungary asks. Prussia sneers.

"'Course she is. She is a student of the awesome me."

"Looks like she has minor bruising, a few scratches… Nothing that won't be gone within a few days." Austria observes after giving me a quick glance over.

"I'll have to give… A closer inspection." France smiles. I find both his comment and the smile he placed with it unsettling.

"Bastard, no you won't. The only person looking her over is Hungary and I. We'll both examine the damages." Romano states. I blush.

"Ah… Hungary will be fine… She probably knows a lot about health, right?" I quickly look to her for help.

"Oh!" Hungary catches the glance immediately. "Right! Of course! I know lots about the human body; I'll be able to fix her up in a jiffy!" She nearly rips me off Romano's shoulders, and whisks me off, leaving everyone else stranded.

"Thank you, I don't think I could handle those boys looking at me… Naked…" I mumble. She nods.

"No problem. I completely understand. We'll have to get you cleaned up though. Your hair is an utter mess." I nod, and she brings me to a bathroom. At least, I think it's a bathroom.

"…Is that a Jacuzzi? And a sauna?" I ask, dumbfounded.

"Yup. This is the spa room. It's the only place I could clean you up and check your wounds." Hungary explains. I nod.

"Right-o."

"Now, strip time! Don't worry I won't look!" She covers her eyes and, following her orders, I remove my clothes quickly, and hop into the fully running hot tub. It feels really nice, although the hot water kind of burns and stings on the scrapes. My back aches. Bubbles fill the Jacuzzi, and I feel something weighing my head down. Hungary's hands are pushing me underwater. "Don't worry; I'm not trying to kill you. You need to get all of your head wet." Hungary comments. I nod, plug my nose, and submerge my entire body in the water.

I feel my hair weave and twist around me, freely, as my bun falls out. I open my eyes, the heat making me blink a little. The water is clear, and I swim as much as I can in a small tub. I come up no more than a minute later, panting.

"Wow! You sure can hold your breath for a while!" Hungary grins. I repeat the gesture.

"After living on an island for so long, you grow used to the heated waters on your eyes, and you find yourself wanting to spend more time under water." I reply, leaning again the wall next to her. She puts her hands into my now wet hair.

"Let's get your hair cleaned." I nod, and lean back, enjoying the feeling.

"How did you get so good at hair cleaning and massages?" I ask.

"I've always loved hot springs, and I wanted others to be able to enjoy it too." She explains.

"Well, that's good. Everyone should be able to have a good time." I comment, and yawn. "Woman, you have magic fingers."

"Thanks! I've perfected my technique!" I dunk my head under when she's finished with the shampoo and conditioner.

"Man, your hair is as long as mine, but a lot thicker." Hungary compliments. I smile.

"Yeah, I supposedly get it from my father…"

"…Oh…" She doesn't pry. She knows it's a touchy subject, family.

"We should give you a new hairstyle!" She changes topic.

"No." I immediately turn down. "I love my hair. I will let it grow as long as it wants to, and no one will mess with it."

"…Alright." Hungary mumbles. She stands up. "Well, I'll go get you a towel!" And with that, she bounds off happily. I sit in the hot water, and let it burn my pores open. I feel so refreshed. I run my hands on my legs under the water, feeling the pickles. _I need to shave again, already. I'll do that tomorrow._ Hungary comes back quickly.

"How do you feel about all of the guys in the world? Like, the guy countries? Why are there so many guy countries?" I ask her.

"Well…" She hesitates, thinking about the questions. "It… Was just luck of the draw, I guess. I mean, I would be happier if there were more girl countries at the moment, but… Soon enough, we'll all be one again, if we're still around. You know, in about a million years, the tectonic plates will have moved us all back into a Pangaea of sorts. Then we'll all be together." The smile slowly fades from her face. "You do know there is another battle coming, right? World wars, I'm getting tired of them. America… He is the cause." I raise an eyebrow.

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"Well, before America, we only had minor scuffles. Nothing between everyone in the world. Everyone was friends, on some accounts. And then… America happened, and both World Wars became reality. It was something we all feared would happen. We knew it would happen eventually; something would push and break the barrier of friendship… America was that something. All of those deaths… He is the cause. Sure, I may have been neutral for the first one, but… After I heard the second one happened, I knew who the problem was. America. I joined the Axis, to be on opposite sides of the reason for the war, but… Nothing really came of it. I did minor trading with Germany, and… That was it… Becoming a country is tough work, and at first, nothing good will come from it. Can I… Tell you something?" She looks at me seriously. I nod.

"The next World War is coming. Everyone knows it. I only know why though. You. You just became a new country. Everyone will give you a rough time. The wars that are to come… Will be yours to blame. That's why I want to help you. I want to make sure you're ready, and strong, for the wars to come. They will be rough, and hard, and much bloodshed with emerge… But if you're strong, you'll survive." I stare at her, mouth agape.

"I… I understand… I will… Do my best!" I decide. She smiles.

"Good. I will be on your side, throughout it, no matter what side you're on." She concludes. I smile happily, hugging her.

"Thanks… Big Sister."


	48. Forty-Three

I shave my prickly legs and armpits, deciding against next-day shaving and not wanting any awkward pokies on my body. I scrub my skin clean of any unsightly scabs or peels, and lather myself in some sort of Hungarian lotion. I ask Hungary herself, and she gives me the needed materials for waxing. I do my face first, then go to… Other locations. I ask Hungary to get me my clothes from my room, embarrassed to leave, and she simply nods. She returns with a white frilly shirt, with ruffles, and a pair of black knee shorts. She also provides an unfamiliar pair of flat, white moccasins.

"These aren't mine," I tell her, but she insists on giving them to me.

"Take them! They were for Belgium, but she is more of a fan of girly shoes, like heels. I've never been a fan of heels." I stand up straight after slipping the nearly unworn shoes on my feet, and finally notice. Hungary is nearly a head shorter than me.

"How tall are you?" I ask her slowly.

"Five-two. Why?" She questions. I shake my head.

"Oh… No reason… I just feel really tall now…" I laugh awkwardly. "Here, Spain probably wants to finish dancing and stuff." I bid farewell to my 'sister' and exit the room, completely refreshed. One person is waiting out there. The only one I don't really want to see.

France.

"Salut, Mademoiselle. Ca va?" He greets suavely. I grumble, replying in French, the pronunciation rolling clearly off my experienced tongue.

"Comme ci, comme ca." I reply honestly. Because honestly, I have been rather so-so.

"Mais, ma chère, pourquoi vous sentez-vous ces sentiments mitigés? Ne vous inquiétez pas, parce que je vais vous faire sentir mieux." He replies earnestly. I roll my eyes. He should know why I'm feeling so-so, instead of asking. And I don't want him to make me 'feel better'.

"Dis moi juste où l'Espagne est, tu putain." I growl, revealing that I wish to find Spain, while calling him something rather nasty. He gasps.

"Moi? I would never-" He holds himself back. "…He's in the one room you were in this morning, if I recall correctly."

"Thank you. Or merci. Whatever." I brush past him, beginning to walk down the hall.

_He's following me. I know it. I feel it_. Without as much as a second glance, I spin around and whack him across the head.

"I'll have you know," I start while he holds his bruising head, "That I do not tolerate being stalked. I may know French fluently, and I may not exactly hate you, but that will not stop me from kicking your ass, d'accord?" I step closer to him, nearly hissing in his face. "I know kick boxing, martial arts, street fighting, and I am now able to wield knives with a one percent missing range, thanks to Romano. Don't fuck with me, or it will end badly." He nods quickly.

"How peculiar… You are nothing like the little girl I met so long ago." He recalls, catching me by surprise. "You've changed."

"I'm sorry; I don't remember ever meeting you." I laugh mockingly.

"Oh really? When you first visited France, you went to a local café of mine."

"I don't-"

"Yes, you do. I can see it. Flashback in trois, deux, un-"

_ -And here I am. That was a stressful boat ride; the lady in front of me had a rather unkempt child who would cry often. I need something to refuel my body._

_ 'Café' the sign says. Hmm. Coffee does sound nice. I think I'll stop by. I push open the door, a bell above it twinkling happily, announcing my arrival._

_ "Bonjour, mademoiselle!" Someone calls from the front of the store. I walk through the warm, Christmas-like feeling, and head towards the counter. "Qu'est-ce que tu veux boire aujourd'hui?" He asks politely, blue eyes shining. He has somewhat wavy blonde hair pulled back in a lazy ponytail. Although the description of that provides the information that his hair is long, it is only long enough to put back like so. Even with the rubber band, some of his hair has fallen out, framing his face quite nicely._

_ Overall, he looks like a model, in the eyes of a near-fourteen year old like myself._

_ "A-ah, je voudrais, uh…" I try to catch my words. "Je voudrais un café au lait, mousse supplémentaire et coups de feu, s'il vous plaît." I wince, my pronunciation coming out sloppily._

_ "Right away, mademoiselle." He responds in English, setting off to work. I raise an eyebrow._

_ "How come you didn't try speaking to me in English first? It would have saved me the trouble of trying to translate my order." I answer huffily, blushing. He glances at me, his blue eyes twinkling in the afternoon sunlight._

_ "Well, not only do I like to watch teenage girls squirm," He laughs, "But this is France, after all. I have to assume everyone is either French or can speak it. You, little missy, are the later, no?" I nod._

_ "Yeah." He takes a few more minutes, and finally sets the drink upon the counter._

_ "Trois Euros cinqante-cinq." He gives me my price. I pale._

_ "Merde! I knew I was forgetting something!" I have completely forgotten to filter my money. I'm stuck with only a few Euros, and a debit card Uncle Oliver had given me. "Please tell me you take debit."_

_ "…Non, mademoiselle." I blush furiously._

_ "I'm sorry; I will need to go to a money-" He shoves the drink forward._

_ "Here. On the house." He smiles._

_ "Ah… Absolutely not! I will pay!" He leans forward._

_ "Really?"_

_ "Yes! I just… Can't right now… I'll come back or something or I'll… I'll…" I'm at a loss for words._

_ "No worries, American. I can help you pay right now." He grins, catlike._

_ "Uh… No… I won't do… anything inappropriate…" I stumble and blush._

_ "Why does everyone think I'm being perverted!? Non, I meant… You can help clean or something. Pay it off after the day is through. Easy." He smiles._

_ "Really?"_

_ "Sure, little tiger. No worries." He grins again. I like the grin, it suits him-_

He's giving me the exact same grin now. Although it's hidden by a little five o'clock shadow, it's the same one.

"…You?" I ask. He bows.

"Francis Bonnefoy, at your service."

"…Conneries!" I cry, and run.


	49. Forty-Four

I easily find my way back to the dance room. Spain is in there, with Romano.

_Guess what they're doing?_

"Uh…" I mumble. "I'll… Ah… Come back later…" They separate quickly. Well, more like Romano shoves Spain away from him, blushing, and rubbing his swollen lips. They obviously have been making out since I disappeared into the spa room.

"No! It's fine! We need to get some practice in today!" Spain replies hastily, shooting a glance at Romano. Romano turns redder, if possible.

"U-uh… No, it's fine… I don't really like dancing anyways…" I add, happy I might get out of doing any work today.

"No! We're going to dance! I'll teach you!" He insists, walking towards me. I shake my head, backing away.

"No… Thanks…" I gulp, but he already has my hands. I resist the urge to beat the living fuck out of him.

"Now, one hand on my shoulder, the other in my hand." He instructs, and I sigh, following his orders. I twitch slightly when I feel his unoccupied hand touch my waist.

"Romano, would you like to turn on the music?"

"…Sure…" He grumbles, as pleased about this as I am. Spain doesn't notice our discontentment. Romano turns the music on, something basic. _Waltzing._

"Now," Spain says, "an easy triangle pattern. Ready? One two three, one two three, one two three…" I follow his simple steps, gulping. _So far so good…_ "Wow! You're a natural!"

"Liar…" I curse under my breath, trying to keep up. After a few minutes of restless dancing, we stop. We notice Romano left.

"Now, let's do something more fun, more… My style." He flips the music back on, something more upbeat, and jazzy. _Salsa. Fuck, fuck, fuck._

"Now watch." He begins wagging his hips energetically, stepping back and forth. "You see? Try it."

"Uh…" I try following his movements. I feel like an idiot. He stops to watch me, grinning.

"Bien! Are you sure you've never danced before? You are very easy to train." I blush.

"Never in my life. I can't believe this." I run a hand through my wild hair.

"How extraordinary! Now, we'll try something you have to know." He beams at a stray thought. "I remember teaching Lovi how to dance the Macarena…" I widen my eyes.

"We… aren't… Are we?" His grin widens.

"We are. I'll put on the music for you, and sing. All you have to do is what I do." I stammer out a protest, but he's already turned on the music.

"Now put your hands out… Less grope-grope shape, more zombie… Perfect! Now get your hips into it… Yes! Like that! Flip your hands over to the beat, one at a time. Now move them, to the beat, to your hips… Good job!" He instructs easily, and I follow along with no bumps. I'm proud of myself.

"Now, flip around, and do the same thing!" He jumps and spins, landing with his back towards me. And that's when I notice his… Ah… butt. It's no mystery where Romano, or 'Lovi', as he is called, got his from.

"Damn…" I murmur, phasing out. He turns back a little.

"Tally? Something wrong? Why did you stop dancing?" I blush immediately, slapping myself.

"Sorry, Spain. You have… A-amazing moves…" I easily cover up my mistake of openly staring at his ass. He smiles cheekily.

"Thanks, Tally-cat! Dancing's a natural thing in my culture, so I have to take it up!" He accepts, turning back around. I avoid looking beneath his hips, keeping my eyes upward. "Good… Good… Perfect! I think we're done for today!" He exclaims happily. "You're a natural at dancing. All you will really need to know is how to slow dance, to waltz, and to fun dance!" He explains, and I sigh in relief.

"Thank God, I hate dancing!" I exhale.

"Well, you're going to have to get used to it. Everyone knows how to dance formally, and whenever we have a social gathering that isn't a World Meeting, there is dancing. It's a tradition of ours. We usually bring a significant human, mostly important people of our country, princesses or princes or whatever we're interested in. America, one year, brought Marylyn Monroe! It was such a surprise, that he even was able to get in contact with her, let alone get with her! She's such an item…" He's nearly drooling. _So… He's not completely gay, then? He must be bisexual then, or something…_

"Oh… That's cool." Spain walks closer to me, spinning me around before dipping me. I raise an eyebrow, unsurprised.

"Who are you going to take? Do you have any significant humans yet?"

"Well… I don't know. I haven't been home in about… two, maybe three weeks?" I try, and he gasps.

"What!? Class dismissed! We're going to go look you up right now! You must have a website page on Wikipedia or somewhere by now!" He comments. I glance at him, eyes wide.

"Really?" I ask, hesitantly. He swoops me back upright, stepping away.

"Of course! You've been around for about two years now, haven't you? You should be on there! C'mon, we'll ask to use Hungary's computer!" He drags me out of the room. We find her almost immediately.

"Can we use your computer, Hungary?" I ask.

"Oh, please, please, pretty please?" Spain adds, giving her puppy dog eyes.

"Well… Alright, but only if you're done with your class-"

"We are thank you!" We're halfway down the hall, on our way to her bedroom. The room is rather messy, but an organized mess, somewhere between stereotypical male and stereotypical female rooms. I easily find the laptop, and drag it out from its hiding place, setting it up. The internet loads quickly, and I type my name into the search bar.

"Silly, not your human name! Your countries!" Spain confirms, and I backpedal what I had previously typed, and replace it with _"Thalassa",_ hitting enter. I click the first website.

_"If you're referring to the Greek mythology Thalassa, click here._

_ If you're referring to Neptune's moon, Thalassa, click here._

_ If you're referring to the country of Thalassa, click here."_ The website reads. I click the third link.

"Wow, I'm named after a moon and a goddess. Neat." I comment, and the page completely loads.

"Thalassa is a small country located in the lower Pacific Ocean." The website says, "Although it was only recently created, it has a rather decent sized population of about 600,000 people. Most of the ethnic backgrounds consist of Americans, but there are also Germans and Italians that help make up the population. _'It is a very peculiar island,' _as said by scientist James Lukens._ 'The mass of land was found only three years ago, and has become very popular for many facts. It has two different biomes, for one. The clash of a temperate forest and a rainforest is very exciting. For such a small country, the amount of people and different cultures is very interesting. It is filled with much diversity, from the wildlife to the people. It is very rare to have a temperate forest so low on the equator. By rare, I mean that it has never happened before.'_

"Because the country is so young, it has not battled in any wars, has never had any downs or ups, and is mainly rather peaceful. It has many scientists, many artists, and many doctors. It seems to be going through a slight stage of Renaissance. The Thalassian hospital is one of the most articulately designed buildings in the world, with the highest technology and has already found more than one hundred cures for what most of us thought were incurable diseases. The teachers are very articulate, and are raising the smartest children known of, the average IQ in Thalassa is 142.

"The country has many allies, known as America, Canada, Italy, Germany, France, Russia, The Baltic's, Ukraine, Belarus, China, and Japan. Likewise, Thalassa also has no known enemies. A very likeable country, with fair rulers and decent laws.

"Some fun facts about the country: Over seventy percent of the population is addicted to some sort of drug, proving that drug substances do not affect your brain capacity or intellect. About two-thirds of the country is bisexual, and the country is full of some of the most beautiful young people alive. The country's population is mainly white, but there are about twenty percent African-American and ten percent Asian. The northern half of the country is all almost green eyed, while the lower half is blue eyed. Almost every Caucasian person has blonde hair. The country's ecosystems are very strong, and durable. There have been more than forty new species discovered on the mysterious island. The Island only consists of two towns; Ruby and Cora, the two towns separated by the Maryanne River, which drives through the middle of the island. Ruby is the northern town, on the temperate forest side of the island. It consists of many farmers, who grow orchards full of apples, cherries, and pears. On the southern side, Cora, is full of more sophisticated people, who or more likely to blog or post videos than pick fruit and go for hayrides. A very diverse country indeed.

"The country's president is Jared Kingfield, with Phillip Murphy as vice president. The treasurer is Annabelle Marie, and the Secretary is Lauren Vale. For more information about Thalassa, please go to…" I blink, trying to take this all in.

"Huh… That's nice. I like that, lots of diversity in my country, yes?" I comment, turning towards Spain. He stares at me.

"What… You're not changing?" He asks incredulously after a moment.

"Changing? Why would I change?" I ask.

"Well, most of us country beings follow how their people act. We grow accustomed to how our people relate to each other, and eventually become a stereotypical person from our country. Do you smoke?" He questions. I shake my head.

"You have to remember, Spain, that I was once human. That doesn't mean that I can't be my own person."

"Yeah… Makes sense." He agrees half-heartedly. "Darn, I wanted to see you change." I laugh.

"I'm my own person. If anything, that's a perfect representation of my country, isn't it?" I reply, leaving the room with a wild grin on my face.

The rest of the day was uneventful, yet it was very fun. Spain knows a lot about dancing. I believe him to be a mentor of sorts; He is very kind and giving, yet strict and a very good teacher. I hope I can hang out with him more. He's very entertaining. He must be the well-behaved man in the trio.

I've forgotten what my class for tomorrow is, but know very well it will be fun.


	50. Forty-Five

I wake up to Hungary's slight nudging of me. She's rolling me back and forth.

"Tally, c'mon… Get the fuck up, you whore." She greets happily.

"But… I don't want to…"

"Please?" She begs. "It's my turn!" At this, I shoot straight up.

"What'll you teach me?" I ask.

"Why, the thing I know best! Manners!" She grins. "I taught myself, and will teach you too!"

"Oh. Alright." I slowly lumber out of bed, and move towards the wardrobe, pulling out sweats and a baggy tee shirt.

"What. The fuck. Are you doing?" Hungary growls. I glance at her, raising an eyebrow.

"Getting clothes? Why?" I answer. She paces over.

"That's not clothes! Manners! Now, I'll pick something for you to wear!" She pushes past me, searching through the armoire. After mumbling a few 'No's', she appears in a flourish, holding some clothes. She shoves them into my arms, and pushes me towards the bathroom. "Hurry up. We're wasting time."

I get into the bathroom before I can look at the clothes.

It's a pair of slim fit Capri's, rolled to mid-calf, and a strapless, flower-print shirt that flows when you move.

"But… This is so girly!" I call out.

"Tough shit! You're wearing it!" She replies. I stomp out after redressing.

"Is this good?" I spit out. She grins.

"You look adorable!" She gushes. My mind catches that one word; Adorable. _That's what someone calls a puppy. That's what someone calls a little kid who's throwing a fit. That's what someone calls a toddler who's trying to act grown up._

_ That's what I called Canada often. _I look down, paling. No wonder he didn't like that_. I should've known… Why…?_

"Tally? You okay?" Hungary asks, worried. I nod and smile.

"Never been better." I look down at my attire. "Just kidding."

"Oh, I think you look great. I know a certain few people who would like the style." Hungary says, winking. I blush, confused.

"What?" I ask.

"I invited someone over, that I think you might like. They'll be coming for dinner, and not only can you show them this cute outfit, but you can also show off your skills that you'd have learned by then." I blink, and once her words finally comprehend in my mind, I grin.

"Who?"

"Surprise. But we better get started." I nod, and follow her out of the room, quickly braiding my hair back so it won't get in the way. She falls back, and I walk next to her. She stares at my shoulders, then moves down to my feet, then back up.

"Good. I don't need to teach you how to walk like a lady. You already know. Ah, but right here." She pushes my upper arm, and I nearly fall over. "It seems you're not holding yourself confidently. We'll work on that." I glance over at her, and she catches my look, and clicks her tongue.

"That too. You must be polite and firm about your decisions. Either you fully look at someone, or you pay no attention to them. You have to choose whether they're worthy of your time or not." I nod.

"Okay."

"But, then again, you might need to study someone from afar in the future. At those times, you must pretend you aren't looking at them, while looking at them. It's very troublesome, but after a few years, you'll get used to it." I nod.

"So much to take in," I comment begrudgingly.

"And no complaining, unless you have a dignified reason. You mustn't be a shrew." I sigh.

"No sighing. In most ancient culture, sighing was a sign of losing your soul, bit by bit. People that sighed too much were proclaimed to be possessed by a soul-stealing demon." I blink.

"…Blinking's okay." I laugh. Her eyes widen.

"Perfect! I don't need to teach you how to laugh like a woman either! Your laugh is already twinkly enough, with no snorts or grunts. Jeez, you're already pretty far! Let's see how much more you know." She leads me into a room, with a complete banter of food on a large table. I feel my stomach growl in hunger, and blush.

"I get food?" I ask happily. She halts, and turns to look at me.

"Make a more proper sentence." She orders.

"Uh… May I please have some food?" I try. She thinks for a moment, and nods.

"Good. You use decent sentence formation and grammar, but only when prompted." She analyzes.

"Thank you?"

"You're most very welcome. Now, come and eat. I heard your stomach; you're starving." My cheeks flame.

"Alright." I sit down, and before I know it, Hungary is off again, chattering about which spoon to use in my cereal and what fork is made for pancakes. I know some of the things, like a soup spoon or a dinner fork, but others…

"Now, this is a relish fork. You use it for, well, relishes and things of that sort." I raise an eyebrow.

"Why would someone use this?" I ask, holding up the small fork. It's very thin, with two prongs emerging from the top.

"If you needed to get a certain amount of something out of a jar, this will help. Say you need to get an olive out of a bottle; just stick this in and stab it. It'll get it." I nod in understanding.

"Makes sense."

"Indeed."

"How do you know so much about proper etiquette and manners?" I question.

"Well, before I knew I was a girl, I acted like a man. I would fight with The Ottoman Empire – Turkey – and I would get into daily squabbles with young Prussia. He was so picky back then, but very strong. Once, I asked for his help fighting Turkey, and he easily took down one of his towns, when I had struggled with him for a long time. I must say, I believe I was his friend of sorts. Then… I left for a while, and we didn't see each other often. I had finally reached my adolescent years, when we met again. I had just gotten into yet another battle, and was physically drained. He found me, and saw my wounds, and took some of his clothing to heal it. I wouldn't take the cloth."

"Why not?" I ask. "I thought you liked him!"

"I did… I do… But, not only was the fabric from his crotch – Awkward – but I had some large pride. And then… he noticed... Because I was in my teen years, my boobs started to come in, and the fight had ripped my shirt right down the middle… He saw my…" Her face heats up. I nod.

"I knew then. I knew I was a girl. He didn't have them, and I did… After that, I went to live with Austria, because he's calm, and gentle. He doesn't do much fighting, and… I needed someone like that." Hungary finishes. I smile.

"Well, now, you have to choose one. Which one do you need?" I ask.

"I… I don't know…" She grumbles. "I love both of them… Can't I just have both?"

"Well, unless they're cool with a threesome – which is really unlikely – I don't think you can. Pick one."

"Eh…"

"Choose him." Hungary and I freeze, turning around.

Austria stands there, flustered.

"Austria, I-" Hungary starts.

"Do it. Pick him. I… I think he'd like that." Austria insists. Hungary blanches.

"What are you thinking!? I can't just-" She denies, but Austria steps forward, hugging her.

"You can. I know you can. Go to him, damn it. He… He likes you too. I know that. He's told me." She blushes, as he pulls away and looks at her.

"I… I can't just leave you…"

"You've done it before, haven't you?" He laughs. She looks up at him worriedly, and slowly pecks his cheek.

"Thank you… I-I'll go now." She pulls away completely, and rushes out of the room. The door shuts, and I'm left with Austria. I walk up next to him.

"That was brave." I comment, and he looks at me, before looking at the door.

"I just did what I felt was right." He replies, laughing again. But this laughter is sad, heartbroken.

"Why did you do that? Hurt yourself, for her benefit?" I ask.

"Because I love her. Love something, you set it free. Countless times. I know she loves me too, but she also loves him… I let him have his chance. He does like her." I glance over at him, the way I was scolded not to. Tears are running down his face.

"Ah… It's okay, Austria…" I say, unsure of how to comfort him.

"Yeah. Yeah." He sniffs, wiping his eyes under his glasses. "I'm fine."

"Well, I need to go check on her, make sure she doesn't fuck this up." I step towards him. "You sure you're okay?"

"Well, I'll get over it. It's nothing." I nod, and leave the room, listening to Austria mutter, "I think I'll call Germany… Yeah, I'll call Germany. He'll understand."


	51. Forty-Six

After looking for a few moments, I find both of them in a hallway. Prussia stands there, grinning, while Hungary looks flustered beyond belief.

"-My, my. My precious Hungary, what ever is bothering you to be so finicky?" Prussia taunts in his sarcastic arrogance. Hungary blushes.

"Well, I, ah… Wanted to tell you something." She glances around warily, and I hide quickly. After quickly checking to make sure they were alone, Hungary looks up at Prussia. He is a lot taller than her, nearly eight inches of height between the two of them. His smile fades a little, turning light and calming.

"Yes, Lizzie?" He whispers.

"I… I-I…" She blushes heavily once again. _I've never seen her like this, all flustered and whatnot. She must really like him._ I grin. She looks down, shutting her eyes tightly and clenching her fists in frustration.

The smile is completely gone from Prussia's face. His hands automatically go onto her shoulders, and she squeaks. He looks at her, worried. I hold in a squeal of adorableness.

"What is it?" He asks.

"I like you!" She blurts. He pulls back, surprise painting his face, his red eyes widening. "I… I… I like you a lot… I think I might even l-love you… I… I have for a while." She sighs, backing up. She looks up at him, eyes glistening with determination. "I love you. I do. I really, really do."

Prussia blinks. "I… I can't just…" He stumbles. "I… I… I have to go."

And with that, he runs. He flees, taking his so-called 'awesomeness' with him.

I have never wanted to punch someone harder than him at this moment.

Hungary backs up into a wall, and sinks down to the floor. There are tears in her eyes, and she laughs throatily. I walk to her, falling to my knees.

"You okay?" I ask, and she nods, laughs, and shakes her head. I smile sadly.

"I… It hurts…" She whispers, giggling. "I can feel it everywhere, through my bones… It's worse than any wound I have ever gotten."

"I know, hon. I know." I whisper, sitting next to her. _And I do. I do know how it feels. It hurts like a bitch. She_ sniffles, and leans into me. For once, I'm a bigger sister to her than she is to me. I wrap an arm around her, comforting her as I best possibly can. _I've never done this before._

"I-it's just… I told him I loved him, and… and… He walked away…" She wails, burying her face into my shoulder. "I shouldn't of told him… I shouldn't of… Austria shouldn't of told me to run after him…" I feel anger building up inside of me. _Prussia, that bastard._

"It's okay, Hun. It's okay." I tell her softly. "I'll kill him. I'll do it, that dick-head. I'll go chop his balls off and glue them to his bloody fucking dick!" I spit furiously. She looks at me, eyes wide.

"No, you don't need to do that. It's fine, I'm fine…" She hiccups. I growl.

"…Fine. But… If he dares show his face to me, comes into my field of vision… I'll beat him. I'll beat him to a bloody, battered pulp. He deserves it, that asshole." I have her wipe her tears away, and get her to her feet. She stumbles a little, but recovers quickly. Her eyes are flat, dull green. They don't hold much of anything. Hungary is a mess. I sigh, moving to a near room, and sitting her down.

"Here… Keep teaching me… Get your mind off of it…" I persuade. She nods solemnly.

"O-okay… Now, ah, you just…" Her mind was out of focus, her eyes bleary. She recited everything automatically. I could tell that, even though I tried to occupy her mind, her thoughts were still on the red-eyed albino.

She only snapped out of it when a maid came in to report that the guests had arrived. Hungary and I grin, and her eyes shine with happiness for the first time in a few hours. We rush to the front door, to see America and Japan removing their coats. I grin at America, hugging him.

"Happy to see you, brother." I greet, and he laughs, squeezing me back.

"Good to see you too, Tally." He replies. I release him and politely shake hands with Japan.

"How are you?" I ask. He smiles.

"Good. I'm happy to accompany America to visit you. He insisted." I raise an eyebrow, turning to look at America.

"You're close friends with Japan?"

"Yeah, Kiku and I love hangin' out!" America uses Japan's human name, and I grin.

"That's good. It seems you two get along well enough, yeah?" I comment, and once again, America speaks up.

"Yeah! He's my best friend!" America states proudly, slapping a hand on Japan's back. Japan winces, blushing.

"A-ah, America… You're touching me." Japan says quietly. America quickly removes his hand, knowing that Japan doesn't like to be touched often.

"Well, let's go see what they've prepared tonight." I continue, walking with them towards the dining room. Hungary seems happy enough. When we enter the dining hall, Austria and Spain are both there, chattering quietly. _No Prussia. Good._

"So, who made dinner?" I ask both of them. They snap up, and blush, each moving away as if they're embarrassed to be seen with the other. No one pays attention to it other than me, and Austria answers me.

"Spain made Highlander Stew." He informs, adjusting his glasses. He looks at Hungary, and immediately adverts his gaze.

"Now, Austria," Spain's thick accent cuts in, "give it its credited name. Cocido Montañés." Spain smiles brightly, happy with the name. I grin.

"Good. I love that stuff." I quickly grab a bowl of the food, using all of my new manners to delicately place the bowl on the table. I pick up my soup spoon, and dip it into the warm broth, filling the spoon with the liquid and a bit of bacon. I eagerly take a bite, my tongue easily filled with the tasty grub. America sits next to me on one side, Hungary on the other. Japan is next to America, and Hungary is next to Spain. We all enjoy the meal, a meal between friends. I politely converse about America's home, and he says he and Japan are co-making a game together. Something with zombies or ghosts in it, no doubt. When he asks, I reply that everything has been fine enough, and that I am learning a lot of stuff I didn't know. The food was so yummy, I was up to get more after ten minutes. Spain got up at the same time, and we both went into the kitchen to grab a ladle-full together.

"Tally, I didn't know you liked my food so much!" I grin.

"Well, I love food. I'm so surprised I'm not a fat-ass. Besides, your place had some pretty bomb recipes of deliciousness when I was there." I complimented, and unsurprisingly, Spain drops whatever it is he's doing and hugs me. "Mmph." I mumble against his chest.

"Thank you, mi querido. That makes me happy." He laughs, and it sends massive vibrations through my face. When he releases me, I continue talking to him.

"Why did it seem that you didn't want to be caught talking to Austria?" I ask. He glances at me, surprised.

"You noticed?" He says incredulously. I nod.

"It seemed I was the only one that did." I comment. He sighs, smiling lightly, rubbing his curly brown hair.

"Well, back in the day, Austria and I were married-"

"What?" I nearly shout, shocked. "I didn't know Austria liked guys…"

"It's not like that. You see, marriages between countries are just a peace treaty of sorts. It's like a regular marriage, without a ceremony and all the love. They share money, land, and have each other's backs. If they get divorced, like any divorce, they each get half and they both won't really like being in the same room together. Austria and I are exceptions; We are still the best of buds!" Spain explains. I give him a confused expression.

"I… Get it…?" I try, and he laughs, shaking his head.

"Don't worry; In enough time, you'll understand." We both smile and laugh, exiting the kitchen back into the dining room. Romano has arrived. Without a second thought, Spain puts his food down, picks up a sitting Lovino, and sloppily kisses him on the cheek.

"You bastard!" Romano cries out, blushing furiously. Spain laughs, kissing him again. America looks at me, gesturing towards the happy couple.

"First Germany and Italy, now Spain and Romano? What are you, Cupid? Who's next?" He accuses me. I blush, starting to deny anything like that.

_Then the devil himself enters the room. _

I told Hungary I would beat the shit out of him if he dared show his face to me, and I glance at her, silently apologizing for what I was about to do. I calmly set my bowl of stew down at my spot, and walk over to Prussia, looking up at the tall man. He glances down at me, confused, and blinks.

_Bad move._

Before he can reopen his eyes, I have reared back my arm and connected it to his nose. A sickening crack echoes throughout the room. He groans, stumbling backwards.

"Fuck you." I growl, and walk back to my seat, resuming my meal. He sniffs, and I see blood running from his nose. He sighs.

"I deserved that. Thank you, Tally."

"You're most certainly welcome." I reply tartly, before taking another bite of my soup.

"Hungary, can I talk to you?" He asks, and the room goes silent. She nods, not moving. "…Privately?" He adds.

"Anything you need to say to me, you can say in front of everyone here." She comments, sipping her soup daintily. He growls.

"I would much appreciate it if we could talk in privacy." He strains his diction, frustration showing from the outside. She shrugs.

"I much rather feel comfortable here. You want to talk to me; not the other way around. I won't go out of my way to do something you want." She holds her ground confidently. _I admire that._

"Damn it. I… I-I…" He tries to get out what he wants to say. Hungary stands up, and slowly – _delicately_ – walks towards him. He's blushing and stuttering, and she eventually gets up close to him, not displaying the tears and sadness from earlier. She's strong, noble- A Queen in every right. But it's not how she normally is. With this strength, comes a certain rigidity, a certain barrier between her and everyone else. This barrier is inevitably broken when Prussia swoops forward, enveloping her small body into his arms.

"Es tut mir leid." He whispers, but the room is quiet enough that everyone can hear it. Japan and Austria's eyes widen. Whatever he said, must have been important. "Ich war ein Idiot. Ein Trottel. Ich hätte wissen müssen, du magst mich, und ich hätte es wissen Ich habe dich geliebt hätte. Ich tue. Ich liebe dich so sehr, Ungarn. Seit wir klein waren, liebte ich dich. Es tut mir leid. Bitte seien Sie nicht böse auf mich. Ich kann es nicht ertragen." He mumbles. I can hear the sincerity in his voice, the sadness, and the love. I may not know what he's saying, but I know what he's feeling. Austria and Japan gasp quietly. They must know the albino so well, that whatever he's saying is out of context, out of character. Prussia doesn't usually say this. He usually isn't so serious.

Slowly, hesitantly, Hungary hugs him back.

"I love you too, Prussia. I love you." She whispers. They both snuggle into each other, and Spain and I glance at each other, before looking back at the two lovebirds, and shout in perfect sync,

"Kiss!" Hungary and Prussia whip towards the both of us, glaring intensely. We both shrink away, awkwardly laughing. But finally, Hungary twists and dips Prussia down, kissing him softly.

"Aw," I coo. It's so adorable. I feel my eyes watering. "I do love happy endings."

Hungary and Prussia leave quickly to do some 'talking'. In reality, I know that they went off to do more making out.

Not that I'm complaining.

The second that Hungary left the room, I sighed in relief, slouching into my chair.

"Finally," I whisper happily.

"What happened?" America asks, nearly done with his soup.

"Hungary's been ragging on me all day about manners and proper etiquette and shit, I'm relieved she's gone now." I giggle. America laughs with me.

"Yeah, I remember when Britain tried teaching me manners and stuff. Didn't really work. After all, turned out the way I am now."

"Oh, I've been meaning to ask… I've seen plenty of other countries rooms… But yours was the cleanest. And not just your room, but your entire house… Why?" I ask.

"Why do you care?" He replies.

"Well… It just seems as a sort of opposite to a stereotypical American…" I explain.

"Oh… You see, when I was a kid, England would make me help him houseclean. I hated it, loathed it. But… When I became independent, it just… Stuck. I hate seeing my house in dirt. I clean once a week, and you happened to visit when my house is in best possible condition." He explains, much to my surprise.

"Wow. I really didn't see that coming. From everything that I've heard about him so far, he sounds like a bit of a prick." I analyze.

"Mr. England is really nice!" Japan interjects, which is even more surprising to me.

"Really?" I ask.

"Well…" Japan gets quiet again. "He does have his moments… But most of the time, he tries to be fair and a gentleman."

"Huh… I guess I've only heard the bad stuff about him. Like, how he can't cook… And he's a bit delusional… And America's independence…" I laugh awkwardly. "Anyways, how did you know what Prussia was saying? What did he say?" I ask Japan.

"Prussia was speaking in German, and because I was once on Germany's side in a war, I know German. I also know Italian, but only because of Italy." Japan reddens lightly. "And… He said he was an idiot, and that he was sorry, and that he had loved Hungary since she was a little girl."

I squirm in my seat, struggling to contain my girlish natures of cooing and squealing. "That's so adorable. I really want to watch a romance movie right now." I mumble.

"Well, you can go try finding France. That's probably what he's doing at the moment." Spain butts in. I raise an eyebrow.

"Really? That's why he's not here?" I question.

"Either that, or he's getting some with one of Hungary's pretty maids." Spain considers. "Or he could be talking on the phone to a booty call. Really, either of those three." I blanch.

"Wow. He's a pervert." I comment.

"Who is, Mademoiselle?" France chooses this opportune moment to enter the room, snapping his phone shut. "Désolé, Seychelles was having trouble finding her pet turtle."

"That's… Actually not as bad as what we were assuming." Spain comments, laughing.

"And what were you assuming!?" France interjects indignantly, starting another conversation that would mold the night into a wildly good time. I continued to chat with America and Japan, while Spain, France, and Romano all conversed with a wild rhythm. Austria looked lonely, finished his food, and exited to his room. I make it a personal goal to find him someone new. It's nearly midnight when America and Japan leave, and I finally exit to my room. I flop haphazardly onto the bed, not bothering to change, and pass out relatively quickly.


	52. Forty-Seven

I wake up, but instead of there being a half-awake half-asleep state, I am completely up. I open my eyes slowly, having them already be adjusted to the darkness of my room. The only source of light came from the moon outside, and my alarm clock. I look at it. 6:30. I have an hour until I'm supposed to wake up, yet… I feel completely awake. I only got about six and a half hours of sleep, but I feel completely refreshed. I use this time to think, for once. I recall my first few days as a country, the first time I met America.

_ I remember kissing him twice. How do I feel about that? I don't know. I don't like him like that now. I don't think I liked him like that when I did kiss him. He acted upon both kisses. Does he like me? I don't think so. He hasn't tried anything since. _

_I remember kissing Canada. How do I feel about that? I like him. I feel tingles in my stomach, and I feel my face heat up. I do. I like him a lot. Does he like me? Yeah, he does, he said so. But why does he feel the need to put so much space between us? He's been a country for a long time, so why does he feel unprepared? He must have lost his virginity by now… Right? What if he hasn't yet? Is that why he seems like such an inexperienced child? I want to help him get over his childlike self, but… How can I if I can't be near him, if he won't let me? Is he really that prideful to not let me help him?_

_I remember kissing Russia. I remember doing… Other things with him_. I rise from my bed, careful not to make the floorboards in this ancient house creak, and quietly tiptoe to the wardrobe. It's a mahogany color, and has two large doors, along with three bottom drawers. I open the one containing my undergarments, and scramble my fingers to the back, until I feel the cotton fabric between my fingertips. I grab the cloth, and pull it out, revealing the blue-plaid boxers that belonged to Russia. I feel my cheeks heat darker as I hold them up in the darkness_. He has to like me… Right? I like him a lot, and when I think of him, I don't feel anything for Canada, or for anyone else for that matter._ My eyes catch on a hole on the underwear's leg, and feel a twinge of familiarity, though I can't place it. This recognizable pattern, though every day and ordinary, fills me with fear, though I can't remember why.

_They slightly frighten me._ I hastily shove them back in the drawer and climb once again into my bed. I'm shivering; someone must have forgotten to turn on the heating ducts or something. _I like both Russia and Canada, but they're so different. Canada is sweet and sensitive, Russia is passionate. They're both relatively quiet, but Canada's quiet is like a warm summer's morning, when you wake up completely warm everywhere and you can smell bacon and pancakes cooking. Russia's quiet is waking up in the dark after watching a scary movie and the shadows seem to jump out at you, feeling you with a giddy tension that makes you tingle through your bones and giggle at the creepy feeling. Russia's quiet is when there's a group of teenagers and one of them scares the others, causing a squeal and then laughter. Canada's is a happier, calming quiet, while Russia's quiet is an exciting thrill that causes you to feel jumpy, and hyper._

_ Today… I have my last class. With France. Does he still go by Francis, like when I was younger? Yeah, I think so… Tomorrow I will have to prep myself all day, for that Halloween dance… That should be fun, right? I hope so. I hope that my dancing skill will be better than what I believe them to be. I hope that Canada's there, I haven't seen him in a while. I wonder if I'll meet anyone new. I should, because there will be a lot of people there, right? Maybe I'll finally meet this 'England'. I'm looking forward to meeting him, I wonder what he's like… What will happen after the dance? I can't stay here, the classes will be over… Maybe I'll finally get to go back to my country. I wonder how Millie and Tally-cat are doing, Lithuania must be treating them nicely. I should call him and ask if he can bring them to the dance so I can leave right away… What about Russia? How would I explain this to him? He'd probably get mad… Maybe I can ask him to come visit! Yeah! If he has troubles with being cold… Yeah! I'll ask if he wants to come visit my country, and he'll come visit… Because it's so humid there, he'll need to wear shorts and t-shirts… I wonder what he looks like in shorts…_

I let my mind thoughtlessly wander until my alarm goes off. I stand slowly, stretching, and walk to the bathroom. I hop into the shower, sighing when the heated water pounded on my back. I wash my hair slowly, rinsing out the suds when they finish cleansing my hair. I don't shave, I don't need to today. I get out of the shower, slowly addressing my body. I look like I'm sixteen; my boobs are not fully grown, but are decent enough to show I'm a girl. I look in the mirror. My hair looks brown instead of its usual dirty blonde, because it's wet. My hair is really long now, almost to my thigh. It looks nice. My green eyes are dazed, bleary looking, my pupils are huge for some reason. _I look stoned_, I think before stifling a giggle. My skin has gotten relatively paler since I left my country. It's much colder here than on Thalassa. I slightly eye my upper shoulder, where that terrible, ragged scar is.

_-"Please, no! I did my chores, like I promised! I-I don't…" I cry out, sobbing. Chuck stands next to me, anger sizzling through his skin. What did I do wrong? I did everything I was supposed to! I whimper, and he reaches for a knife in the small, dingy light blue kitchen of my sister's house._

_ "You've been bad, Allison. You need to be… Punished." He whispers harshly, before digging the knife into my shoulder, slicing the unwrinkled skin. I scream-_

I shut my eyes tightly, feeling the ghost of the pain of that day. _I was stuck wrapping my own wounds, neither my sister or Chuck cared._ I reopen my eyes, feeling the slight groove of the scarred skin on my shoulder, twitching lightly at the weird sensation it causes. I growl, and enter my room.

"Glad to see you're awake." France is sitting on my bed. I just left the shower, and only have a towel around me. _God damn it._ I squeak in surprise.

"What are you doing in here? Get out!" I order.

"But why?" France asks, standing quickly to walk around me. "I only wanted some cuddle time before you woke up, but… You beat me to the punch." He laughs softly. The familiar laugh I can remember from working with him for a short time.

"Francis…" I sigh. His posture perks up, and he stops in front of me, turning to give me an alluring grin.

"So you do remember…" He whispers, leaning in slightly, blue eyes on fire. I gulp, blushing.

"Of course I remember, you twit." I growl. He raises an eyebrow.

"Oh, that's right. You came from Angleterre first. You do have some British dialect." He murmurs, and looks down slightly, eyes catching on… _Oh no_. "Hm? What's this? Has mon petit chéri grown a little tougher since I last saw her?" He asks playfully, reaching out and stroking the ragged scar before I can stop him. Tingles squirm out all over my body, and I shiver. He chuckles.

"S-stop…" I mumble.

"Is this a turn-on spot?" He whispers in my ear, and he rubs soft circles on the battered skin. I clench tighter onto my towel, holding back noises of contentment. He leans down, and ever so lightly, kisses the skin. I whimper slightly. He continues sucking on the scar, much to my… Liking and disliking.

"Francis…" I moan. "Please… Stop…"

"But why?" He whispers against my ear. "Don't you like it?"

"I… I-I…" I can't take it anymore. I shove him away from me. "Please… No…" I take in a ragged breath. "I… No… I can't…" I feel tears running down my face, and the minute France sees the tears, he comes to a screeching halt.

"What happened?" He asks. I glare up at him, anger coursing through my veins.

"A lot has happened since we last met. A lot has happened since before we met, things I never told you." I mutter harshly. "Get out." France looks in a state of distress.

"…D'accord. But, you will tell me afterwards." He insists. I sigh, and after a few thoughtful moments, nod.

"Fair enough." He leaves, and I sigh. He always would get under my skin, piss me off – He almost went too far today, past the barrier where I might of just killed him - but… I can't ever stay mad at him. I never could. Probably because of that-

_ -"Francis?" I ask quietly. He looks down at me, smiling, his blue eyes flashing._

_ "Yes, petit tigre?" He answers._

_ "Can I… Talk to you after work?" I ask. He nods. The last hour goes by relatively slow, and before I know it, work is over, and I'm on my way home with Francis. After that first day I explained everything about running away to him, finding him easy to talk to, and he invited me to stay with him. We arrive at the small apartment, and he sets his car keys down, removing his jacket. I follow after him._

_ "What would you like to eat tonight?" He asks me. I look up at him, smiling sadly, then looking away before he could catch the sad grin._

_ "…Cook something you think I'd like." I answer, and after a few moments, he nods, and sets off to work. It always surprised me how good of a cook he was. It always surprised me how good at __**everything**__ he was. In about thirty minutes, he finished cooking, setting down a pie-looking pastry._

_ "What is this?" I ask curiously, prodding it with a fork._

_ "It's called a quiche. It's pretty much a pie, but instead of fruits, there's meat and everything needed for a healthy meal." He explains, and I nod, slowly taking a slice. I cut off a piece with my fork, and take a small bite. I can immediately taste the different flavors of beef and tomatoes. I eagerly take another bite._

_ "This is delicious! I love it!" I grin. He laughs._

_ "That's what I was aiming for. I personally like it too." He stares at me for a while, and I blush, reaching up to rub my face._

_ "Is there something on my face?" I ask, lightly touching the corners of my mouth. He shakes his head quickly._

_ "Non, non. Nothing like that. It's just… Been a while since I had a kid around me." He explains, and I raise an eyebrow._

_ "What do you mean? Aren't you only, like, twenty two?" I ask._

_ "Well, no, I'm twenty-six… Partially… But I used to have two… Younger siblings, named Matthew and Michelle, but both have grown up and moved away…" He forces a smile onto his face. I stare at him for a minute, trying to decipher whether or not I should ask more about it. The pained expression on his face… __**I'll let it slide for now. I won't ask more.**_

_ "Francis, remember when I said I needed to talk to you after work? Well… It's after work…" I change the topic, and he nods._

_ "Oui, what is it you were wanting to talk about?" He asks._

_ "I… I need to keep moving. I need to explore, and figure things out for myself. There are probably people looking for me, and I… need to continue on my journey." I explain quietly. He looks at me, a heartbroken grin on his face._

_ "I understand. That's exactly what Matthew and Michelle did, too." He sighs, rising from his seat._

_ "Francis, I-"_

_ "Non," He raises a hand. "It's alright, I understand. It happens to everyone." He slowly runs a hand through his blonde hair, looking completely lost. I hate seeing him like this. I didn't want to see him like this. "When do you plan on leaving?"_

_ "I was… Wanting to leave tomorrow." I mumble. He looks at me, smiling softly.__** I hurt him. I hurt him, it's all my fault.**_

_ "Alright. I'll take you to the airport tomorrow, then." He decides, and even I know it won't go like that. I nod numbly._

_ "Let's… Go watch some television." I look at him, and he just nods, as unfeeling as I am. We both take a seat on the sofa, and the T.V. soon begins droning on, some soap opera. I lean slightly against the Frenchman's taller frame, and he gladly accepts, swooping an arm around me. I blush, snuggling into him. __**He wouldn't return my feelings towards him, I know it.**__ I would leave soon, and he wouldn't even remember me. I know it._

_ Soon the clock struck ten, and we both knew it was time for bed. He rises, and begins heading towards his room._

_ "Francis?" I call out, and he turns, blinking. "Can I… Sleep with you tonight?" I wince, waiting for his rejection._

_ "Si vous souhaitez." He replies, surprising me with a yes. I get up quickly, and walk over to him, while he takes my arms and leads me into his room._

_ The room is a yellow one, with white bed sheets. There's a view of the town through large windows, lighting the darkened room. Francis lumbers solemnly into the bed, while I quietly follow after him. He wraps a protective arm around me, and I snuggle into his chest, burying my face and my sad feelings._

_ "Je vais te manquer." I whisper, and before I know it, tears are leaking out of my face and into his shirt. __**I wasn't this emotional when I left Uncle Oliver, why am I now? Stupid question,**__ I think to myself. I know why I'm crying now._

_**I love Francis. I'm in love with Francis.**_

_ "Allison? Are you alright?" Francis asks me, and I slowly shake my head._

_ "I… I… I'm going to miss you, Francis…" I whimper quietly. He snuggles into me._

_ "I know, petit tigre. I'm going to miss you too." He answers, and I sniff._

_ "I… I like you a lot, Francis…" I mumble softly into his chest, and he tenses._

_ "Allison…" He whispers, and I cry more._

_ "I know, I know it's stupid and that it's completely childish and I can't-" I sob, before he cuts me off._

_ "Je t'aime trop." He mumbles, before kissing me softly. Tears are still running down my face, but he doesn't care. He pulls me closer to him. I bury my face into the crook of his neck._

_ "I…" I trail off, looking for the right words. He shushes me._

_ "Go to bed now, Ally. You'll need the sleep."_

_ It took some time, but he soon passed out. Tears begin leaking from my eyes again, as I place another kiss on his lips before climbing out of the bed. He knew this would happen. __**That was why I asked him to make me something I would like. That's why I asked to sleep with him. **__He knew I would be leaving early. I pack my stuff quietly, sniffing back my tears and snot. __**I can't do this with him, I'm only thirteen while he's twenty-six, 'partially'. Whatever that meant. **__I locate everything of mine quickly, and find a piece of paper. I write him a letter and tape it to the fridge, before leaving. I must hurry. It's almost four, and the train leaves at four-ten-_

I gasp at the long memory. _I remember that. I remember those two weeks in France, with France himself. I… never knew, never understood, until now._ I hastily get dressed into a green sweater and blue jeans, putting on the white moccasins Hungary gave me. I run out of the room, tears streaking down my face. _I need to find him._ I pass Austria, and quickly ask if he saw France.

"Yes, he went to the training room, second door on your right down this hallway. Why are you cry-" I rush past him, calling out a thanks before entering the room. France sits on the windowsill, smoking a cigarette. Of course, I remember him smoking. He looks at me, smiles, and looks outside once more. A gust of wind blows through the open window.

"Francis…"

"Yes, petit tigre?" He asks softly, and I give a throaty laugh.

"I'm sorry."

"Non, non… I knew it was going to happen. I'm such an idiot." He sighs, running a hand through his hair. He hasn't changed since the last time I saw him, ten years ago. _He looks exactly the same._

"It's not like anything would have changed it. I had to leave. Besides, how would you explain the whole 'country' thing to me? It wouldn't have worked. I would have grown older, and eventually died…" I explain, and he rises, walking over to me.

"Matthew is Canada, and Michelle is the Seychelles. Did you know that?" He asks, off topic. I blink.

"I figured it out a few moments ago, along with… Other things…" I trail off, looking down.

"Well… if we tried now, it would work, no?" He smiles hopefully. I sigh.

"I'm sorry, Francis… So much has changed, I'm not the same person anymore… I'm remembering so much that happened before and after I met you, that… I'm changing. I'm turning into a different person." I mutter. He hugs me.

"Change is always a good thing, petit tigre." He whispers into my hair. I sob like a small child into his shirt. We stand like that for quite some time. I eventually explain everything to him that I can remember, listening to his comforting words and encouraging advice. I tell him about the scar, and about what happened in Russia, and about everything. He now knows more about me than Hungary does.

"Francis?" I ask after a few moments of silence.

"Oui?" He replies.

"Do you… Still love me?" I ask. He's quiet for a few seconds.

"Let me show you something." He stands, and heads over to a drawer. "I got myself situated in this room for class, so much of the stuff in here is mine." He explains, pulling out a small slip of paper, and handing it to me. "I carry this everywhere with me. You remember writing this for me?" I open it slowly, to find exactly what I thought it would be; It's the goodbye letter I wrote him when I left.

_Francis,_

_ I'm sorry. I'm sorry for leaving without you knowing. I'm sorry if I was ever a burden onto you at any time. I'm sorry that I never helped you cook food or clean this apartment while I was here. But most of all, I'm sorry I sort of fell in love with you. It's stupid, I know. I didn't mean to, it just happened. You probably have had lots of girlfriends, and probably have loved a few of them. We're a good thirteen years apart. You were my age when I was born. I don't think that's very… Good. But I know very well that I like you. A lot. I sometimes feel actual pain because of it, especially when you talk so easily with the female costumers. It makes me feel… Jealous, I think. Yeah, I feel jealous. I'm sorry for feeling such childish feelings, and I'm sorry that I might have made some of their drinks decaf and that I might have laughed if they slipped on my perfectly navigated puddles of water. I'm sorry that, even though I tried my best, I always gave in to my simplistic feelings. I'm so sorry. _

_ I'll make it up, though. I'll return someday, I'll do all the cooking and cleaning, and I'll get rid of my 'like' for you. I'll be older, and stronger, and more capable when working at the café with you. I won't be a bitch to the other women when they talk to you, and you flirt back. I know that you don't feel that way about me. You just said it to calm me down. I know, don't worry. I will return, I know it. I feel it. I know I will see you again. I can't wait._

_ Allison_

_ P.S. I hope that Matthew and Michelle come to visit you. They better, or I might just have to find them and give them a nice talking to about how amazing their big brother is._

"You…" I whisper, looking up at him. "You kept this?"

"Of course I did. I love you. I do." He replies simply. I feel my face heat up.

"You know, when I first woke up, I didn't have to feel where you were when I fell asleep to know you were gone. It was the first time I had cried because of my romantic life in a good… five hundred years? Yeah, something like that…" He trails off, and after doing the mental math, I know immediately who he is talking about. _Of course I knew who she was. I loved hearing tales of her brilliant rise to success, being one of the greatest fighters in all of France, in all of Europe… I had to have heard of her. She was a sort of idol to me as a kid._

"Joan of Arc, born January sixth, 1412, died May thirtieth, 1431, roughly nineteen years old…" I recite, knowing her story by heart. "She grew up in the East French country, and reported that she was able to speak to God, which lead her to fight in war and lead many victories in The Hundred Years war against England. Soon enough, she was captured by those damned idiots, and burned at the steak for heresy. Eventually, those stupid assholes known as the British realized their mistake, and about four hundred years later, declared her a saint in every right…" I whisper, eyes filling with tears, randomly. "T-they all assumed that she was some idiotic, insane witch… but she wasn't. She was following what her God said to do." I cover my mouth before a sob can escape. France hugs me, and instead of him comforting me, I find myself patting the older nations back as he shudders and cries. I've never seen him so weak. I squeeze him tighter. We eventually are lying on the ground, our shirts soaked from each other's tears. I don't even really know why I'm crying. But it feels good to get these feelings out. France must agree, because he's still sobbing.

"It's okay, Francis… It's alright…" I whisper, stroking his hair softly. His whole body is quivering. We must look like a couple of angst-wrecked idiots to Prussia, who just walked in the door.

"What-" He starts, and we both look up at him, my tears almost dried, France's just starting from the looks of it. Prussia releases a long, depressed sigh. "…You got him thinking about Joan, didn't you, Tally…" I nod, not denying the correct accusation. He sighs for a second time. "…Damn it… I'll send in a replacement teacher, France won't be able to keep himself together." Prussia reached for Francis, who denied Prussia immediately.

"No! I want to stay with Allison!" He cries, burying his face into my tear-soaked sweater. Prussia halts.

"Allison…?" He asks, turning to me.

"I-I don't know…" I lie. "Someone famous he might have known?"

"Now, Tally-" Prussia starts.

"Leave us be, Prussia. I'm still sort of irritated by the stunt you pulled last night, and France and I are both big kids and we can put on our big kid underwear by ourselves." I reply. "I know you're really good friends with Francis- France," I correct myself quickly, "But… He and I need to catch up some more." Prussia looks like he's about to object, when France butts in.

"Hey, Ally." He mumbles.

"Yes?" I reply easily.

"Remember when we went to the video store, and we rented 'The Aristocats' because you had never seen it?" He reminisces. I laugh at the thought.

"Yeah, and you made me watch it in French the first time, instead of in English? You thought just because I could understand French, that I could watch that movie and understand what they were saying?"

"And," Francis continues without breaking rhythm, "you got 'Everybody Wants To Be A Cat' stuck in your head? I remember you would walk around the café… singing it…" I laugh along with him.

"I remember, Francis. I remember." I agree, turning to Prussia. "See what I mean? I could barely remember that, and with France's help, I remembered! I think we'll be fine on our own, Prussia."

"…Well, alright. I'm worried about you, though. I've never seen 'Francis' like this." He warns. I smile.

"We'll be okay."

Prussia leaves us to our memories, both happy and sad.


	53. Forty-Eight

It only takes a few minutes, but Francis is finally acting normal. The tears are only on my sweater and his button-down shirt, making them look funny. We both decide that we need a change of clothes, if only to make us feel cleaner. I exit the room and start towards mine. Once there, I am completely relieved to find no one waiting for me. I pace to the wardrobe, and pluck out an old band tee I found with an artist I happened to know, The Eagles. Although I don't know how Russia and his sisters would know who they are, I don't complain. I love this band. I find it rather easy to return to the class, surprised with my sudden knowledge of the home. It's not that big, after all, but it still is shocking. France is inside, shirtless. I immediately blush at his absolutely flawless back, and notice he has one dimple on the left side of his lower back. He turns around after finding a shirt, this time a dark blue one, and begins buttoning it. I don't even notice I'm staring, until he smirks and laughs in a very unsettling manner.

"Don't tell me you fell for me, mon chéri." He comments, an unheard 'harder', or 'again', lingering in the air. I laugh, not wanting there to be more seriousness for today.

"Not this time, Old Man." I wink jokingly at him, and he stands straight up indignantly.

"What do you mean, 'Old Man'?! I'm only twenty-six!" He pouts. I smile.

"In real years?" I counter. He growls.

"I may seem old to you, but in reality, I've only been twenty-six since the eighteen hundreds." He replies.

"Yeah, but you've been around since the four hundreds. That's old." I conclude. He walks forward.

"Really?" He whispers, lifting my chin with a finger, leaning towards me. He stops. "J'ai pu vous séduire tu près de dix ans il ya, ce qui, après tout, n'est que dix ans. C'est presque comme dix minutes pour quelqu'un comme moi. You did the same thing to me, mademoiselle." His voice lowers. "And I want to teach you everything I know about seduction, because I believe that if you can seduce me, like you did back then, then you can seduce _anyone._"

My face flushes, and I screw my mouth and eyes shut.

"When's your birthday, Ally?" He asks.

"…April third, if I can remember correctly." I mumble.

"Bien, so then you are an… Aries?" I pause, and after a moment, nod.

"Heh, well, no wonder you were so easy to get! 'The easiest way to the Aries heart is through passion and boldness'; but you shouldn't need to worry about anyone in that zodiac. The only other person with you in that color is Belgium." And so begins our lesson.

"Now, next is Taurus, who loves to take everything very slowly and carefully. They do not want to be rushed, and want it slow and gentle, like a kitten of sorts. And once again, only three people. England, Norway and Cuba are all Taurus.

"Now, here's a fun one! Gemini's love to be won over with wit and intelligence! They have a knack for liking smart people who we can have a decent conversation with. If you ever need to seduce a Gemini, just ask about their hobbies. They easily comply, especially when you ask for a crash course. Denmark, Sweden, and Iceland – Three of the Nordic's – are Gemini.

"And then there is Cancer. We are very soft-hearted, and sensitive. We absolutely love being babied, and would love to snuggle! And there are a lot of us! Canada, Hong Kong, America, and myself are all Cancer's!

"And Leo's like lots of compliments and like being the center of attention! But alas; only Switzerland and South Korea are Leo's, which I guess is better, because 'Center of Attention' is not very endearing.

"Virgo's love cleanliness. Make sure that when seducing them, you are completely spot-free and neat. The only male Virgo is Sealand, but he's only fifteen in physical age, so you shouldn't need to worry about him. He won't be aging older for a while.

"Libra's want everything perfect; high class, champagne and evening dresses instead of beer and jeans. They're very fanciful, and love anything proper and elegant. Only Germany and China are Libra's.

"Next, Scorpio's don't do very much communicating or talking. It is best to get to them by silently conversing, use your eyes and body movements to flirt. Be sure when around them to do less talking, and more actions. Austria, Turkey, Poland, and Latvia are all Scorpio's.

"The Sagittarius love humor. You can easily flirt with them by telling a joke, or making a few pratfalls. Only Finland is a Sagittarius, and I don't think you could try anything with him, seeing how much Sweden has his fingers on him-"

"Sweden? Wait, Sweden and Finland?" I ask, confused. I had heard a slight bit about them both from America, but never enough to get much information.

"Oui, Sweden has a major crush going on for Finland. Finland is sort of an idiot, so he doesn't realize it, but it's there and it's true." France explains. I nod for him to continue.

"After Sagittarius is Capricorn's, who can be very intimidating. They are definitely worth seducing, although they may seem that they are a little scary and guarded. It takes a while, and is a long trek to finally get them. There are only two Capricorn countries-"

"Russia, right? I can totally tell, it's Russia. One of them is Russia." I interject, and France nods.

"Yes, Russia and Prussia. I'd ask how you knew… But… It's obvious." He smiles. I shrink a little, embarrassed.

"Now, Greece, Japan, Spain, and Lithuania are all Aquarius. They can be a rather tough nut to crack when it comes to seduction. The best way about it is to be offbeat, maybe a little uncaring. Just ask them out bluntly. They will quickly try to grab what's walking away. They also have a rebellious streak; Be bold and dare one to kiss you. And, last but not least-"

"-Finally-"

"-Are the Pisces. You must distract them, and then swoop in for the kill. Invite them to come stargaze, or to go scuba diving. Estonia, Egypt, and both Italy's are all Pisces. They also all have many erogenous zones, or 'sexy-zones', as I have learned to dub them." He finishes, and I sigh.

"Damn, that's a lot to take in. Je n'aime pas." I rub an eye.

"Oh, and that's just in general! Let me tell you, I have had the wonderful pleasure of seducing all of the countries I just mentioned; and even some I didn't mention. I will tell you every little thing that turns them all on. We've just begun!" He exclaims, and I sigh again. This is going to be a lot of tiresome work.

It took until dinnertime, and we finally finished. I learned everything from the fact that Greece believes people with cat ears – real or not – are incredibly sexy and cute, to Latvia, who absolutely loves snuggling and cuddling. I stumble out of the room, completely tired and stressed. I know for sure that I'm going to bed early tonight. That's when I get the idea. It's a simple idea, really, but… I love it from the moment it bursts into my head. I find Hungary immediately.

"Hey, Hungary? What's the music for the party going to be like?"

"Well," She considers, "I'm going to be having a live band of normal humans. Why?"

"Okay, here's my idea…" I lean in and whisper in her ear. She giggles, amused, and nods.

"I'll let you do that, but you'll need to get in contact with America to see if he'll help you with that." I nod.

"Will do. Thanks, Hungary!" I call, running to the nearest house phone. I find him under recent calls, and hold the phone to my ear as it rings.

"Y'ello?" America's bright voice shouts into my ear, making me wince and pull the phone slightly away from my hurt ear.

"Oh, hey America, you know how Hungary's having that Halloween party tomorrow? Well, I was wondering if you'll help me with something… You can play the guitar, right…?"


	54. Forty-Nine

The night before I stumbled bleary-eyed into the bed at eight. I slept until I awoke and was unable to go back to sleep, and rose slowly, stretching, to find Hungary already in my room.

"Um… Morning…" I groan, still tired. I check the clock, to find it saying near 11:30. Hungary grins, and that's when I take in her appearance. Her light brown hair is pulled back in a simple bun, unflattering yet easy. She has no makeup on her face, yet her green eyes are still vibrant. She's dressed in a plain white tank top and navy blue sweats, bunched at the ankle and a small hole in the upper thigh.

Overall, she looks like she just woke up.

"Spa day!" She whispers, and everything clicks.

"…Sounds like a beautiful thing." I'm nearly sobbing with relief. _I've been needing a spa-day. I'm guessing it's to help prep our bodies for the 'ball' tonight, which will be rather fun. Although it sounds really prissy, I've always been a fan of spa days, having only ever experienced one. I've heard of a lot of movies that had intense spa days, with much gossiping and giggling and boy-talk. _Hungary immediately stands and pulls me out of the bed, and we hear someone knocking on our door.

"Miss Hungary, are you ready?" A timid voice speaks through the door.

"Yes, Honey! I'm just about to come out! Don't get scared, okay?" Hungary replies, almost as if talking to a small child.

"O-okay." Hungary slowly opens the door, and exits, moving for me to follow her. We both come into eye contact with bright blue eyes, the color of ice, or maybe the sky on a sunny day. They were almost an ice blue, if there was anything of the sort. Her entire body jumps when she sees me, and she collapses to the floor, her black hair shutting me out from the pretty eyes. She whimpers on the floor. Hungary is immediately at her aid, shushing her and patting her back.

"It's okay, Honey, I told you that Thalassa was going to accompany me in the treatment; Did you forget?" Hungary whispers quietly. I blink, and find 'Honey' looking up at me with tears in her eyes. I see everything, from the hurt to the unfamiliarity of my face to the pure fright and fear in the crystal-ish orbs. I know immediately; _She was molested._

_I know it because my face looked exactly like that when I was about her age, only fifteen_. I lean onto my knees, not breaking eye contact. I feel her gaze being reflected in mine, and before I knew it, she was nuzzling into me. I pat her back soothingly. I know very well that she is hurt, and judging by her actions, she may be mentally shocked.

"Tally, this is Honey. She came to live with me a few months ago and she never told me her real name, so… Honey." Hungary introduces, unfazed by the young girls actions. "Honey, this is Thalassa. She is a sister of mine." Honey merely nods into my shoulder, and I take in everything about her. She's very bony, knobby knees and shoulder bones and absolutely skinny. Skinnier than I have ever seen anyone.

_ As skinny as I was when I was out running everywhere._

"It's okay, baby… It's alright… They aren't here anymore, you don't need to worry…" I whisper into her unruly black locks. It's short, some sort of asymmetrical bob, but the thickness of her hair is absolutely distinct.

"I-I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…" She whispers, rising up. The maid's outfit is a perfect fit on her, and she looks down quickly.

"It's alright." Is all I can come up with.

"Now, Honey is my personal maid." Hungary explains. I look at the small, timid girl in front of me.

"I'm pleased to meet you, Honey." I greet, and she blushes immediately.

"T-thank you, the pleasure is all mine…" She mumbles. I rise, and find that the young girl only reaches my shoulders. She is about the same height as Hungary, but is definitely younger.

"How old are you, Honey?" I ask her curiously.

"Ah… Four-fourteen…" She stutters. There's a moment's pause, and Hungary claps her hands together, causing both myself and Honey to jump, although I break into a nervous giggle while Honey remains silent.

"Well, let's get this started!" Hungary says eagerly, and Honey nods with a quick 'Yes milady', leading us down the hall.

"Does she know about us?" I whisper quickly into Hungary's ear. She shakes her head.

"No, not yet. I was thinking about telling her, but I really don't know how she would take it. She's always been stumbling and timid, sort of ditzy, but she means well. I think she may have had something troublesome happen to her before she came here, but she hasn't said anything to me." Hungary explains quietly.

"I was just like that when I was her age… When it happened to me…" I mumble back.

_And… Start._

We reach a room, the same one I was in just a few days ago. _Was it really just days ago? Feels longer,_ I think to myself. We enter and strip, sinking into the steamy tub of warmth. I sigh, sinking my head into the bubbles. I'm still ridiculously tired; I feel like I haven't gotten a good night's sleep since I became a complete country, which is true. I feel myself start to close my eyes, sink into the slumber-

"Now's not the time for sleeping! You have important business to take care of!" Hungary snaps me right back out of my stupor with her sharp words. I nod dimly, and begin taking care of everything.

_Forty minutes in._

After I wash my hair and shave myself, Hungary and I given colorful robes are led out of the bath to two lounging chairs. Honey calls out a name in another language, one I don't know, and another girl comes in, brown eyes matching her hair. She's short and bulky, but in a way that's rather endearing. Her maids dress also fits her perfectly. She looks like a model, even though she is larger. She grins happily at me, and pulls up a stool, sitting near my feet. She takes one of my size nines into her hands, and I immediately blush, tensing. _A person touching my feet is an awkward situation for me._

"I'm just giving you a pedicure, dearie. Don't worry." The woman coos.

"I-I'm sorry about my toenails state of display; I haven't done much to keep up on them or anything." I apologize quickly, looking down. She laughs.

"No need to apologize; I'm just doing what I like to do. Take care of others." She replies, and quickly sets out on her work. After a few moments of quiet thinking to myself, I address Hungary, who's getting the same treatment I am from Honey.

"Hungary? What type of dance is this? What should I wear?" I ask.

"No need to worry, I have it all planned out. Just calm down and enjoy everything." She answers, giggling.

And for once in a long time, I am calm.

_An hour and a half in._

The woman, whose name I found to be Patty, filed and took care of my toes and fingers, painting them a clear-pinkish color. No sparkles. She also put lotion on my legs up to my knees, which was slightly awkward, but I didn't say anything. In the robe, she's leading me back to my room, away from Hungary.

"See you at the ball, Tally!" Hungary called to me before I was led out of the spa room.

"Now, dearie, I'm going to do everything else in your room, okay?" Patty says to me, and I nod.

"Alrighty. Do I get any hints on what I'm wearing?"

"You'll see it when you put it on, and when you're completely done." Patty responds, closing the door to my room. "Now, sit on the chair, and we'll get started."

_Hour and five minutes._

"Hold tight, dear. I'm just adding makeup to your face." Patty chastises. I nod. She picks up what I believe to be cream foundation, perfect to my skin tone. After that, she picks up some bright red face paint. I want to ask what it's for, but she smears it onto my cheeks. She adds brown eye shadow and eyeliner to both top and bottom, to probably give me some sort of natural look. After mascara, also brown tinted, she adds some clear lip gloss and chap stick.

"Shouldn't I have gotten into my dress first before putting on makeup?" I ask warily.

"Oh, heavens no! It's much better to have a little makeup on the inside of your outfit, than sprinkled on the outside! Now, close your eyes while I put this powder on. It'll help your make up stay on for the night…"

_Hour and twenty._

"I'm wearing that? It doesn't look like a dress at all!" I comment, staring at the full outfit.

"I never said it was a dress, although it is one, in fact. It just has bloomers, that's all!" Patty replies, pulling me towards the rather adorable monstrosity. _It doesn't look half bad, _I think before smacking myself mentally. _What am I supposed to be? With_ the bloomers, a dark blue dress, an apron, and black and white stockings, I have absolutely no clue. _Oh well, let's get this bloody thing on._

_Two hours._

"Now honey, I think we only have one thing left…" She says, and pulls out a bright red fur ball. I squeak.

"What is that!?" I cry out. She laughs.

"It's a wig. To finish your costume perfectly?" She reasons, and although I can't think of how a red wig would go with this, I don't comment. The hair in it looks sort of yarn-like, braided into tight dreadlocks.

"Alright, let's get this done and over with." I mumble. She smiles.

"Well, first, we have to put your hair up…" She ties my hair quickly into a tight bun on the back of my head so it will go unnoticed under the wig. "And then a bald cap…" She tacks off everything she adds. Once the wig is fitted perfectly onto my shiny cap, she pulls out two red hair bands, the same fire-truck shade as the wig. "And into ponytails…"

_Three hours._

"And… Finished!" Patty says, "Oh, wait! Shoes!" She rushes out of the room, and I am quickly aggravated by the fact that there is nothing reflective in the small space other than the window, which I refuse to go to for the fact that someone might be out there, and see me in this ridiculous getup, if it is ridiculous. Patty returns quickly, holding a pair of classic black Mary-Jane's, with a thick, clomping heel. I growl at the sight of them.

"Dreadful. What are you thinking?" I spit out. She smiles.

"Just wait, they'll work perfectly. You'll love it." I sigh and slip into the shoes that fit perfectly. They surprisingly enough go great with my black-and-white striped stockings. I stand, and tilt one shoe inward, looking up.

"…Who am I supposed to be? Alice in Wonderland?" I ask. She slightly chuckles.

"Go look for yourself. There's a mirror in the room across from yours." She replies. I nod and exit my room, stealthily moving to the next room, to find Hungary sitting, waiting.

"Oh, Tally! You're adorable!" She coos. I smile tightly.

"Thanks, who am I supposed to be?" I reply. I take in her costume of a football player and grinned. _I knew she liked America's sports, being a tomboy and all, but this is ridiculous! _"America is going to have a heart attack when he sees you, y'know." I add. She nods eagerly.

"That's what I want to happen! He's one of my best guy friends, and I wanted to surprise him!" She explains, and I nod. Her hair is tied up in a tight messy circular bun on the nape of her neck, a few strands straggling out. "Oh, and look in the mirror, I thought you'd like it." She answers, pointing to a large full-body mirror. I turn and face my reflection, only to gasp.

My red-dreads wig is in two ponytails, none of my blonde hair fraying out anywhere. My face has the look of a doll, my eyes electric green and my cheeks with circles of red. The dark blue of my 'dress' billows then cinches at my elbows, and flows to just above my knees. It's low-cut, but only to show my collar-bone, and the sleeve are off-shoulder. The apron ties around my waist, with a large bow in the back, and two front pockets. The pantaloons are barely peeking out under my dress, stopping at my knees. The striped tights start from there, and the black schoolgirl shoes finish the look. I glance down at myself, then look back up into the mirror. _Everything clicks._

_ I'm a Raggedy Ann doll._ A small sigh releases from my lips, as a turn around to check out the back.

"I love it!" I squeak out, overjoyed. "Thanks Hungary! It's so cute!" She laughs.

"Yeah, well… I knew you'd like the idea. Plus, with what you have planned tonight… I thought you might need something easy to move in." I dive forward and hug her.

"Thanks, Hungary! I like it a lot!" But I pause, and with another glance at myself, I feel that something is… Missing. "But, uh, is it alright if I add onto this?"

"Oh, it's fine! It is your costume, no worries!" She approves, and I shout another thank you before dashing out of the room. "Oh, be sure you know the party starts at six! You have three hours!"

_What do I need? What do I need?_ I'm sprinting through the halls, thinking and looking around like a lunatic. I turn a corner.

And crash into Prussia.

I fall onto the ground, wincing as my butt smacks roughly to the floor.

"Tally! I'm sorry! Are you okay?" I look up at him and nearly scream.

He's dressed as a cheerleader.

Like, short skirt and varsity sweater and trainers and everything. Even the pom-poms. His eyes are daintily outlined in black eyeliner, and that's when I get the idea.

"Uh… Prussia… What are you wearing?" I ask. He sneers.

"I'm wearing a cheerleader costume. I'm the cheerleader to Hungary's football player." He explains. I grin.

"Aw! That's so cute!" I squeal. "You don't know happen to have any more eyeliner, do you?" He nods, pulling a stick out from his shirt.

"Yeah, right here… Jeez, these bras do come in handy…" He says, handing me the crayon.

"Thanks! You're awesome!" I congratulate, running for a bathroom. He stands there, appalled as I shut the door.

"Now, just a few lines here, and one there… Perfect!" I finish quickly, standing back to admire my handiwork. I outlined my eyes in the black, making my eyes brighter, and had drawn a line from the corner of my mouth up, a curved mark ending on the side of my face, near my ear. I easily add some perpendicular short lines to it, to act as stitches. The marks are only on one side. I look amazing, at least from my perspective. I leave the bathroom with a proud smile on my face.

I have three hours 'til the party starts.


	55. Fifty

I passed the time walking around and looking outside. They were setting it all up outside, which I found rather torturous for the fact that plenty of the other countries will probably be wearing revealing clothing. _Then again, most of them are guys… Well, at least my costume will be warm…_

A ding echoes through the house.

_Someone has arrived._

Completely excited, I open the door, not wondering if the person there will be someone I don't know.

It was Lithuania and Estonia.

"Guys! Hi!" I squeal happily, hugging both of them. Lithuania accepts the hug while Estonia squirms a little. I pull back and check out their costumes.

Lithuania is in a fluffy dog costume, quaintly resembling a white Saint Bernard. He's holding Tally-cat and Millie, who I gleefully pick up. Estonia's decked out in a shiny gray robot outfit, little lights lighting up on the cylinder around him. His silver glasses match it perfectly.

"I love you guy's costumes!" I compliment. They both stare at me.

"I like yours too, Thalassa." Lithuania responds. Estonia just keeps staring. I blush.

"Ah… Thanks… Come on in, eh?" I back up, allowing the two into the house. "Party is in the back, and I think I'll come out with you until more people show up. I'm never trying that 'Opening-the-door-in-a-house-I-don't-own' thing again." I giggle, and pick up the two cats.

"Actually, I'll be right back. I need to take care of these two babes." I excuse myself, and walk away.

"Hey, Tally!" Tally-cat greets. I smile down at her.

"Hey, Tally-cat... How was Russia's house?" I ask.

"Actually, after you left, Millie and I went to stay at Lithuania's home! Russia said he didn't need Lithuania's help anymore; or Latvia's or Estonia's!" Millie simply nods.

"Yeah, and he didn't want to take care of us either. He knows that his cat can take care of himself; he didn't want to forget to feed us, though." Millie adds. I nod.

"Where was Latvia?" I ask.

"He wanted to help Sealand get ready. He'll be arriving with Sealand. Rumor has it that they're both going as vampires or something." Tally-cat explains.

"Awesome! Speaking of which… I need to get you two ready for Halloween!" I exclaim, and bump into yet another person for the second time today, this time being Spain. I look up at him, assessing his outfit.

He's a werewolf. He's in some ripped up light jeans and a shredded green plaid button-down, little tufts of fur glued on under his clothes. His hair is tangled and messy, and he has fangs in. There's fake blood on his clothes, and he's barefoot, feet covered in fur.

_ Fake blood._

"Spain, do you have any more fake blood I could use?" I ask. He nods.

"Yeah, although I think your costume looks fine enough the way it is…" I shake my head at the accusation.

"No, no. For my cats!" I exclaim, holding up Millie. "See, all they need is some blood, and they're ready to go!" He nods, and pulls a plastic blood bag out of his shirt pocket.

"Actually, it's real blood. I went to the local hospital and asked if they had any I could use of their biggest type of blood, y'know, the kind they had a lot of. I explained my idea and they loved it, and gave me a bag. I just put some on my clothes, and was done!" I widen my eyes.

"Wait… _Really?"_ I question. He nods.

"Yeah! Here you go!" He gives me the bag and walks away. I shrug.

"Alright, to the bathroom!" I shout, and we three troop off, excitement building in our veins.

We enter the restroom, and I pick up Millie, placing her in the sink.

"Wow this is going to be gross. Really effective, but gross." I comment, holding up the bag. I stare at it. "Actually… No. I'm not using this, what the hell was I thinking? What the hell was Spain thinking?" I throw the bag away, mentally beating myself for almost covering two cats in human blood. "Be right back, I'm going to go get some red food dye or something…" I shut the bathroom door after me and jog to the kitchen. Austria's there, dressed as… _Who?_

"Hey, Austria! Do you have any red food dye or fake blood or something?" I ask, ignoring the weird white puffy roll wig he was wearing, and all of the white powder on his face, and the light blue old-school clothes… "Wait. Are you… Mozart?" I add curiously.

"Of course not!" Austria denies. "I'm Beethoven!"

"Oh. Alright. Suits you, I guess." I say, and get back to the point. "So any red dye or anything?"

"Well… I believe there's some red food dye in the cupboard next to the fridge…" He answers. I grin and open the door, pulling out the dye.

"Thank you!" I call while running out of the room.

"Okay, you guys, I got some dye!" I exclaim, entering the bathroom. They're both curled up in the sink, chilling.

"Aw, adorable!" I coo. "But now is not the time for snuggling. Tally, you will need to move so I can do this…" Tally-cat yawns and stretches, jumping onto the nearby toilet. I open the lid. "Now, this might feel weird at first because it's wet, but it will dry once I groom you out with my fingers, okay?" Millie nods bravely.

"I'm ready for it." She says. I tip the container over on her back, the liquid coming out like juice. Millie's entire body shudders in revolt, but she cringes and I finish quickly, rubbing it through her dark fur. I add a little to her mouth, and her white paws.

"There! You're a zombie cat!" I finish. She shakes her fur, splattering my outfit with a little of the red. _It makes it look even better!_

"Now, Tally." I continue, as Millie jumps off the counter. "Be careful Millie, don't lick your paws or it might go away." Tally slowly lumbers up to the sink, taking a seat.

"Tally… I'm worried… It won't hurt will it?" Tally-cat asks, worried. I smile and shake my head.

"Don't worry, it will be like getting a bath without the whole bathing thing." I say, tipping the bottle over onto her multi-colored fur. "Oh, it will be more visible on your fur too!" I rub her furiously, her fur beginning to stick out at random places. Her pupils dilate, making her look like a member of the undead. "All done!" I finish, admiring her. She also shakes herself out, covering me with more 'blood'. I squeak as they both exit through the door I left open, Millie grumbling and Tally singing. Or yowling, whatever the cat's preference is. I sigh, rubbing my red tinted hands on my apron. I now look like some sort of serial killer or horror film monster. I take some of the dye myself, and wipe it on my cheek, and more on my apron. It really looks like blood, which is rather freaky. I grin and exit myself, heading back to the kitchen to put back the red dye. Romano is in there now, grumbling to himself.

He's wearing a dress.

A bright salmon-ish colored one. A gust of air releases from my closed lips, as I begin laughing.

"Ro-Romano! What the hell are you wearing?" I wheeze, leaning on my knees for support. The dress reaches a little past his knees, and he has a frilly petticoat on underneath, with brown working boots on, the kind that women would wear in the sixteen hundreds. He has a white apron that ties around his waist and around his neck. Topped off with a white bandana-like cloth over his head, he looks like a maid of some sort.

"Shut up Tally!" He grumbles, turning away from me angrily. "I got dragged into this by Veneziano! He wanted to wear the outfits we wore as kids…" He explains harshly.

"But I thought that North Italy was the only one to wear dresses…" I say confused.

"When Spain saw that Austria was letting Veneziano do it, he wanted to see what I would look like in a dress. Same design, but while mine is this horrible pink shade, his was a bright green."

"Wait… Spain raised you? He's that old?" I question, appalled. "Doesn't that make him some sort of pedophile?" Romano whips to look at me.

"No! Of course not! We got together after I was grown… Not when I was a kid. Sure, he raised me, but… It's different. He didn't like me when I was younger…" Romano denies, somewhat uncertain. I decide not to push it.

"Oh, alright. Speaking of whom," I continue, placing the bottle back into the cupboard, "Where is North Italy? He would be with Germany, right? When are they arriving?" I ask.

"Last I heard, they were about twenty minutes away."

"Hm. Has anyone else arrived?"

"After Lithuania and Estonia… maybe a few of the African countries, but other than that, I don't know. I think England might be here, but I heard he was waiting and getting ready with America."

"America? Aren't they on… Bad terms?"

"Well, not exactly. They kind of have an awkward tension. England only went over to America's because 'Japan was invited over, who insisted that England should be too'. In reality, though," Romano quiets down, "I think he just is concerned for his younger brother." I don't reply, thinking hard about this.

"…Huh…" I mumble. "A little weird, but I guess I can see where he's coming from. Well, I think I'm going to go introduce myself to a few of the arrived people!" I excuse myself, and head out. I need to call America, make sure he's on time for the plan. I need to get my own cell phone, damn it. I find Hungary quickly, and ask to borrow her phone, which she pulls out of her bra.

"You're wearing a bra, even though you're dressed like a guy?" I question.

"Well, the girls need to be kept in place. It's rather unwomanly for a girl to not wear a bra." She says, handing me the phone.

"Ew, it's warm!" I whine. She laughs, and walks away. I wipe the screen off before searching through her contacts, finding him easily. He's the first on the list. I put the phone to my ear.

"Hello?" America greets, and I hear a lot of muffling behind the earpiece. An engine revving. They must be in a car, and if they were on their way from America, then they must have just landed in Hungary, and will be over in anywhere from a few minutes to an hour.

"Hey, America? Where are you at? How much longer until you get here?" I ask.

"Hey, you guys shut up! Tally's on the phone!" I hear America shout.

"Tally?" Japan cuts in. "Tell her I said 'hello'."

"Tally? Who the bloody hell is Tally?" I hear another voice, an unknown one. The British accent is highly developed, and the voice is smooth, like a singers. I'm guessing that that is England.

"Tally is Thalassa, Canada's girl? Remember when he was all fucked up about her?" America replies indignantly, and returns to the phone. "Sorry it took so long to reply. Japan says hi and England's being a grumpy old man-"

"-You git-"

"But we're on our way, Estimated Arrival Time about fifteen minutes. You're gonna love my costume, Tally!" America gushes. "And don't worry, there will be enough time, even if I had slept in!"

"Oh, okay. That's good. I hope you don't get in a crash or anything…"

"I'm the hero! I don't get into wrecks- Hey watch where you're going, Asshole!" I hear raging horns honking and vulgar shouts from America.

"Oh for heavens' sake-" England cuts in.

"America watch where you're going-" Japan adds.

"Anyways we're almost there!" America continues.

"Alright! Tell Japan I said hi and England that I can't wait to meet him! And do not wreck Alfred, or I just might have to-"

"I will! Bye Tally!" The phone clicks. _Oh God, please don't have them wreck, please don't have them wreck please-_

I hear a car screeching through the walls of the house, the entire home shuddering.

"Woo! Party don't start 'til I walk in, y'all!" I hear from outside. _Good gracious._ I run to the front door which is kicked open by none other than America. He laughs maniacally as he pulls the string on his chainsaw, the engine starting. The hockey mask over his face glints in the light, and the blood-soaked white shirt he's wearing is staining into his jeans. The big black boots he's wearing clomp unflatteringly. I shriek, and fall to the floor, shaking and nervously giggling.

"Whoa, Tally! Calm down! It's just me!" America insists, immediately stopping the saw, and pulling his mask up to reveal his bright blue eyes and wicked grin.

"I know that, you asshat! Don't ever fucking do that again! Scared the shit out of me, you-you…" I tremble, and he leans down next to me.

"I'm sorry, Tally. I should know you're scared easily. And that you're rather… Abusive…" I gasp in mock shock, over the fright.

"What? I would never hurt anyone!" I deny, then grin evilly. "Unless, of course, they deserved it…" And with that, I back hand America in the head. He flings backwards, hissing. I grin, and rise from the floor mightily. I turn to a wide-eyed, dog-eared (literally; that was the only costume-ish attire he was wearing) Japan, and lower my head.

"My apologies, Japan." I wince. "Damn, I think the red food dye has gotten me sort of insane or something…" I rub my wig awkwardly. "What's up, Japan? Not into dressing up?"

"Well, I would have worn a lightning tail, and some yellow, but I didn't think anyone would get it." He explains. I laugh and nod.

"Sorry I took so long, bloody hook got caught in the door." I hear from behind Japan, and we both turn to see England.

His hair is a mangy, dusty blonde, and his eyes are vividly green, like mine. He's wearing a traditional pirate outfit, with black pants tucked into mid-calf boots. He's wearing a white button-down undershirt, with a dark maroon overcoat, matching his fabulous hat. That's the only way I could describe the magnificent headwear. I openly stare at him for just a few seconds, our eyes widening at each other. I blink a few times, and crack a lopsided grin.

"Pleasure to meet you, England. I'm Thalassa, or Tally for short." I hold out a hand, smiling. He blinks a few times himself, surprised by my politeness most likely, and puts out a hand himself, regaining his stature.

"No, the pleasure is mine, Miss Thalassa." He replies, his voice accentuating my name. I raise an eyebrow questioningly, but shrug, shaking his hand easily.

"So, ah…" I trail off, looking down at the poor state of America, still rolling on the ground, groaning. I let out a small giggle at his actions.

"What happened to that fool?" England asks with a bit of amusement in his voice.

"Oh, I just thought that he needed a bit of a… Woman's touch." I explain. England's eyes widen.

"You hit him?" He questions. I smile a little hopelessly.

"Sorry, I don't do that often. At least, not usually. It's sort of become a bit of a habit to hit things that scare the hell out of me. Plus, he kind of deserved it, bashing in Hungary's door like that. She'll need a new door! But tell me you haven't wanted to hit him yourself out of his sheer stupidity." I state, looking back up at England. He looks at me, then back down at America, releasing a chuckle.

"True. He can kind of be a tad of an idiot sometimes." England agrees.

"Damn it, Tally," America whines, "That hurt!" I cackle.

"Tough shit, shouldn't of scared me." I retort, crossing my arms. "I feel like I need something from you. Or I might just have to beat the shit out of you."

"Eh!" America squeaks, rising up quickly. "Don't do that Tally, I don't want to hurt you."

_-Inhuman strength-_

"Oh, did you know…" I recall, the farthest I can go back to a week ago, when learning about America.

_-Afraid of ghosts-_

"…That Hungary's house is haunted?" I grin wickedly. America's eyes widen.

"W-what?" He whispers. I smile.

"Oh, nothing. Never mind. I don't think they want you knowing. The surprise is part of the fun too." I lie easily, turning around and walking away.

"Wait! T-Tally!" America shouts, but I begin running, laughing like a complete maniac. _God, Britain must think I'm a psycho of some sort…_

For the third time, I bump into someone. I look up from the ground to see France.

_Well, his head at least._

"W-what…" I whisper in confusion.

"Salut, mon chéri." The head says in the arms of his body. I feel my eyebrows push together as my mouth opens in a silent scream.

Not silent for long.

"What the fuck!" I scream, scrambling backwards. "What. What. What. No. What the hell. What. I can't I can't I fucking can't. Ghost!" I cry out, finally rising to my feet and booking it towards the way I came, shouting and screaming. The first person I see is Alfred, and I leap into his arms.

"Run you fucker run! France is a fucking ghost!" I yell. "He… He took off his head, an-and-"

"Whoa Tally calm down. A lot of us can remove our limbs." America states. I stare at him with a look of pure disgust on my face.

"What." I whisper. He nods.

"Our bodies are in use for quite some time. I'm able to remove a leg that got blasted off in World War One, and got sowed back on. All of our scars disappear though." He explains. I stare at him.

"If you're kidding, I'm going to kill you." I say. He nods.

"I'm not kidding. Want to see?"

"Ew, no!" I crawl out of his arms. England and Japan appear.

"What's all the ruckus about?" England asks plaintively. Japan remains quiet.

"France removed his head. Again. Scared the hell out of Tally." America says. I shudder. _The gaping hole that was his neck…_

"What the hell… He didn't do this until now…" I mumble, paling. America laughs.

"Well of course he has to keep it a secret! If people other than us knew about this dismembered limbs thing, we'd be put in crazy houses!" America snorts.

"Touché. So…" I move my gaze from America to England to Japan. "All of you can do this? Like that one guy off of The Holy Grail?"

"The Black Knight?" Britain interjects. I nod furiously.

"Yeah! 'It's just a flesh wound', y'know, all that. You guys can do that?" I ask.

"Most of the countries can, especially the older ones, because of all their wars n' stuff." America explains.

"…Makes sense. That's cool, I guess. I just think it would be better if we were reborn after we aged past, like, sixty. Our old body would die, our new body would be born." I say.

"Then we wouldn't always have our knowledge of everything." Japan replies.

"…Oh…" I don't have very much more to say. "Well… I'm going to go… Uh… Mingle…" I awkwardly excuse myself, and pause once more, turning around with what I believe is a charming grin, "It is a certain pleasure to meet you, Mr. Kirkland. I hope to get to know you better, although I have a certain feeling that I… Already know you. Weird, right? Huh, well, whatever. Tootles!" I wave a little, and continue walking, feeling like a million bucks.

"How did she know my name?" Arthur Kirkland, otherwise known as England, whispered to his companions.

"She's Tally. She knows a lot of things for being only twenty-six in actual years. Have I told you about what she said to Germany when he tried to fight me? Something about a dog…" I grin wickedly, knowing my own sanity is perfectly questionable in every standard.


	56. Fifty-One

Please tell me what you think on this chapter!? Maybe? Every single one of y'all should just tell me what you liked or didn't like and-

Kay I'll go now bye

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The party is off full swing. Plenty of people have arrived, and we were all herded outdoors into the cold, supplied with warm food and hot drinks. I personally have myself a hot chocolate, and stand back, admiring all of these people I don't know. My eyes pass over those I know, like Ukraine, Latvia, and whom I believe to be Germany, dressed as a mummy of sorts, but they also cross paths with strangers. Like a blonde haired green eyed man (Man?) talking animatedly to Lithuania. I question the maleness of this person because of the fact that they are wearing a short denim skirt, a long sleeved women's sweater, knee high brown socks, and fashionable heels.

And they are completely pulling it off.

There is also a boy staying by Latvia's side, not wanting to be deterred from his place, with bright blue eyes and dirty blonde hair. He is wearing a vampire costume, like Latvia. This must be Sealand. I throw away my empty Styrofoam cup and sigh, rubbing my arms absentmindedly.

"You are finally getting cold? Shame, since I am unable to warm you up." A shiver of delight runs down my spine as I spin to look at Russia. He looks ridiculously handsome in a pair of round, white ears, with a fanciful pale suit on. The suit is a cream color, with a purple neck ahoge, and his traditional scarf. I grin at him, and nearly tackle him in a hug.

"I'm not cold, just alone." I mumble into his jacket. He grins and pats my head.

"Well I am here now, no need to be alone." He chuckles. "Well, they are going to start playing music soon. Would you like to dance?" He asks.

"What about Belarus?" I reply worriedly. He shivers a little, and smiles.

"Oh, she has her hands full." His gaze goes behind me. Belarus, dressed as Alice from Alice in Wonderland, has taken a hold on Lithuania, and is tugging him away from the person with an unknown gender. Lithuania isn't complaining. He doesn't look scared, but he doesn't look relieved either.

"D'aw, love at first fight?" I wince at my bad joke. "God, that was terrible." Russia laughs anyways. I smile.

"So, how about that dance?" He continues. I grin and nod. He takes my hand, and pulls me into the crowd. I giggle lightly. He easily sets a hand on my waist, and we keep our hands locked as I slip my other onto his shoulder. The music is light, easygoing, simple one-two-three movements.

"Hey, Russia?" I ask.

"Yes?"

"What's your human name? Do you have one?" I ask.

"Ivan." He responds. Something twitches in my brain. _That name… How do I know it?_

"I've heard that name before… Somewhere… I can't remember where." I think aloud.

"Well, others do have that name. It is not like it is uncommon." He replies, swirling me in for a dip. I blush immediately.

"Remember when you would get really red and shy when I would hug you?" I ask him, laughing as he pulls me back up. His ears turn slightly pink.

"Yeah. I am not really used to people touching me. No one really likes to be around me." He comments easily. I raise my eyebrows.

"Well why the hell not? You're awesome!" I question. He shrugs.

"They all think I am a little scary, and intimidating. I grew accustomed to your physical tendencies though." I nod.

"Well I think you're intimidating, but scary? Not really. I like to think of you as a stuffed animal that was forgotten for a few moments in the snow outside, before the kid remembered and came back to get you, y'know?" His cheeks turn red.

"…Thalassa…" He murmurs, swooping me into a huge hug. "That was sweet of you."

"Don' worry about it, just saying what I feel." I laugh, and the hug is cut short by someone tapping on Ivan's shoulder.

"May I cut in?" America asks, raising his eyebrows suggestively. Russia's gaze darkens, and America puts his hands up quickly. "Not trying to make a move on her or anything, just need to talk to her! I'll even give you two a room tonight, even though this isn't my house and I don't really have a say on it or anything!" America twitters nervously. _So Ivan really is this scary? Even to America?_

"Well, alright, but I do not want to have to hurt you America. Do not do anything rash, yes?" Russia smiles, and pecks me lightly on the cheek, before walking away. America sighs, running a hand through his messy hair, almost knocking off his mask that rests lightly on his head. After regaining himself, he picks up where Ivan left off.

"What's up?" I ask.

"A few things. I need to go over what songs you are planning on doing, make sure I know them." He informs. I nod.

"Okay, I want to do three songs," I explain. "The first one is that one crossover of _'Sergeant Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band' and 'A Little Help From My Friends'_."

"Know it, alright." He checks off, spinning me lightly.

"Ah… _'Addicted'_, by _Simple Plan_?" He thinks for a moment.

"I think so… That one boy band that actually is pretty decent?"

"Yeah! And last but not least, I want to do_ 'A Team' _by-"

"_Ed Sheeran_? I like that song. Brings back some pretty peculiar memories." Alfred comments. I grin and nod.

"Yeah, I think that's it."

"Okay, cool. Next thing; your boss is calling up my boss, saying he can't get a hold of you, and wants me to." I look down, contemplating this.

"Hum… I think I'll need to talk to him soon." I decide. "I'll call him tomorrow, okay? I know that since it's Halloween and all, he'll probably be taking care of his own things, and will be back up and running tomorrow!"

"Tally… Time difference…" America reminds me.

"Well then he's sleeping right now or something. Chill, I got this." I smile, then frown. "I don't have his number though…"

"That's okay! I can call my boss who can call your boss and we'll get it!" I laugh at his simple-minded thoughts, knowing it wouldn't be something simple and easy like that. America and I dance for a few more songs, before we're both tired out and plan on waiting for everyone else to arrive. The party is almost full already, but there are some people who haven't arrived yet. I just saw China, dressed as a panda of sorts. I glance around at the full house. Some are dancing, some are eating, some are talking… I leave to find Hungary.

"Is everyone here?" I ask her, as she stuffs her face with some pie.

"I believe so." She responds, muffled with her mouth full. I grin.

"I'm going to go up there then!" I reply, running to find America, and we both wait for Hungary to finish eating before she walks up on the musical stage.

"Hello everybody!" She calls out enthusiastically. "How does everyone like the party?" A few nods, a few polite answers, and a few whoops and hollers are the response. Hungary grins. "Well, ah, I'm here to introduce somebody! This fine lady is rather new to the whole group of us and what we are, and she's hitting it full swing! I hope you all can welcome Thalassa!" She finishes, quickly beckoning me to the stage. I blush and walk up meekly, America proudly striding afterwards. Hungary pats my arm and leaves. I look around the stage, a scatter of empty instruments. I look out to the crowd, and see faces looking back at me. Some are smiling, some are frowning. Some I know, some I don't.

"Hi! I'm Thalassa, or Tally for short. I'm kind of a new, uh, country, and I wanted to introduce myself properly! Although this isn't much for a proper introduction." I ramble lightly. "Well… I'm going to sing a few songs tonight, get you all pumped and revved, yeah? I thought it was a good idea at the time, but if you don't like it… Just… Boo me off…" I laugh nervously. A couple of the smiles in the crowd turn into reassuring grins. It makes me feel better.

"America's going to help me, he knows how to play the guitar and stuff, and… Uh… Yeah! I'm going to be playing the guitar too, so it'll be fun!" I laugh again, looking at Alfred who already got a guitar into his hands.

"You want the acoustic or the electric?" He whispers.

"Acoustic." I reply, and he picks it up, giving it to me. I beam in response, turning back to the crowd.

"Well, let's get going, shall we?"


	57. Fifty-Two

THIS ONE TOO! THIS ONE TOO! LET ME KNOW WHAT'CHA THINK MAYBE? :D

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The first song is electric. I may be playing an acoustic, but it combines perfectly with the mega-swift riffs coming from Alfred's strings. Our parts melt together and twirl away in a musical frenzy that fills me with energy and adrenaline. Alfred belts out the first lyrics to the song, hitting each note with sweet, sweet perfection, and everyone begins dancing, almost like a movie set in the fifties or sixties. _They know dancing, and know it well_. I grin a little, and continue with the vocals and the strums of the guitar. When the second verse design starts, America and I start singing together, even though we have to share a microphone. We split into parts, singing one at a time, until America continues with his introduction of me, calling me '_Billy Shears'_. His guitar cuts out, and I play solo, singing with ease, saying how I '_get by with a little help from my friends_'. America asks me a question through song, and I shake my head. He asks another one, and this time I reply with pride and happiness.

"_I need somebody to love,_" I sing, catching eyes with Russia.

_"Would you believe in a love at first sight?"_ Alfred sings.

_"Yes I'm certain that it happens all the time."_ I reply in a sweet voice.

_"-With a little help from my friends!"_ I finish, hitting the high note with perfection.

Applaud echoes throughout the backyard. I beam in joy. _They liked it!_

We wait a few moments for people to pause, and I sigh, and scan the crowd for the one person I'm looking for, the one person that I'm secretly dedicating this next song to. I find him quickly, hiding in the back of the crowd, looking at me yet not glancing my way. His sky blue eyes are outlined with dried red and gray and white and green paint, and his clothes are torn and ragged. He did his makeup with such perfection that it looks almost as if there's a bite taken from his cheek.

_ Canada, the zombie._ I smile at him, and he quickly looks away. I turn to Alfred.

"Ready?" He asks, to which I nod.

America starts out heavy on the electric, and I join in after a few measures.

_"I heard you're doing okay, but I want you to know," _I sing, staring at Canada, _"I'm addict- I'm addicted to you."_ He blinks at me, eyes wide.

_"I tried to make you happy, but you left anyway…"_ I continue halfheartedly.

_"Now it's over, can't forget what you said, and I never, want to do this again… Heartbreaker_…" I don't break eye contact with the blue eyed boy.

_ "I'd run a thousand miles to get you, do you think- I deserve this?"_ I belt out with spite in my voice.

_"I'm trying, to forget, that I'm addicted to you, but I want it, and I need it, I'm addicted to you…"_ After singing the a verse, the chorus, and another verse, I go into a certain part of the song. America quiets down, and once again it's just me playing. I belt into the mic, emotion dripping out of every syllable.

_ "How long will I be waiting? Until the end of time?"_ America joins in on guitar, but lets me sing solo_. "I don't know why I'm still waiting… I can't make you mine…"_ Alfred enters an insane guitar solo, and I bob my head slightly to the sick beat. I sing the chorus again, before we both just repeat _'Heartbreaker'_ and_ 'I'm addicted to you'_. The song ends. Everyone claps and I smile, but the smile doesn't quite reach my eyes. I sigh, running a hand through one of the red wig's pigtails. I blink a couple times, turning my eyes towards the Canadian, before he turns roughly and walks inside.

The praise dies down, and the audience is ready for more music. I remove my guitar as America removes his, and I pass him the acoustic. I'm just singing for this song.

America slowly begins strumming, and I lean into the microphone.

"Slow song?" I question myself, before I spew the first lyrics.

_"White lips, pale face, breathing in the snowflakes. Burnt lungs, sour taste… Lights gone, day's end, struggling to pay rent. Long nights, strange friends."_ I murmur into the voice projector, connecting eyes with Ivan. His eyes widen, realizing this song's for him. I wink lightly, and survey the people dancing, the lyrics of the beautiful song resonating.

_"And they say, he's in the class A-team, stuck in his daydream, been this way since eighteen, but lately… His face seems, slowly sinking, wasting, crumbling like pastries, and they scream, 'the worst things in life come free to us'…"_ I sing quietly, fading into the song. I close my eyes, enjoying the numbness, the sweltering feeling easing into my bones. I begin the second verse.

_ "Ripped gloves, rain coat, tried to swim, stay afloat. Dry house, wet clothes. Loose change, blank notes, weary eyed, dried throat. Cool guy, no home."_ I twist up the lyrics purposefully, causing a more solemn meaning to the song than there already is. I sing the chorus again, and Alfred plays beside me happily.

_ "The angel will die, covered in white, closed eyes, hoping for a better life. This time, we'll fade out tonight, straight down the line…" _America quiets down considerably, from his loud strums to muted plucking.

_ "And we're all under the upper hand, goin' mad for a couple grams, and we don't want to go outside… Tonight… And in the pipe, we fly to the motherland, or sell love to another man… It's too cold outside, for angels to fly…"_ I whisper the last few words, my stomach twisting and contracting with blankness. _It's frightening. I'm starting to scare myself._ I blink expectantly at Russia, who gives me a small smile, looking both happy and sad at the same time. I smile back, and step back from the mic, about to wave goodbye and walk off the stage, when I see something happening.

Arthur is arguing with Francis. They both are growling and spitting at each other, obvious hatred in their eyes. The fighting gets loud enough to hear.

"-You ignorant frog!" England shouts.

"Be quiet, Sourcils! It's not like you would even know anything about love! After all, you are the black sheep of Europe!" France replies, startling me. _That was… Harsh…_

"Shut up, you twit! I would know enough about it!" Arthur counters, but he has no major rebuttal, causing France to have a bit of victory.

"Oh really? Who?" Francis replies snootily.

"N-none of your bloody business!" England finally says, making Francis laugh.

"_Je le savais_. Of course you've never had a lover, who would love you?" France smirks, strutting off. Although it was a rather loud fight, no one paid attention, not from the way it looked. Everyone else was looking expectantly at me, waiting for another song. Arthur sniffs, wiping an eye. I close my eyes tightly, debating within myself. I come to a conclusion.

"I will be doing one more song, but… It will be solo." I speak into the microphone loudly. America gives me a confused look. I stand up on my tiptoes and whisper into his ear.

"Make sure England doesn't leave. He's looking pretty sore at the moment, I want to help him feel better." I whisper, and Alfred nods, leaving the stage after dropping his instrument. I wait to start until I'm sure Arthur isn't going to leave, as he is being dragged to one of the outdoor tables. I smile at Alfred in thanks, before speaking into the mic.

"Now, since this will be my last song, I want to say it's for someone. I met them tonight, and I'm hoping that I can become friends with them! I thought they were very nice. You know who you are." I giggle, and search the stage. _I know I heard one earlier…_

The keyboard stands like a beacon in the sky. I smile in happiness. _Over the past few days, I've decided that playing a piano or a keyboard isn't that bad, they're actually really fun!_ I stand behind it, hooking the microphone to the holder that's connected to the mechanical piano. I turn it on, and push a few buttons, getting it ready. Some of the audience stands awkwardly, some are chatting with others. Arthur and Alfred both look at me, both expecting something, but not exactly the same thing. I hit one or two keys, before switching the tone of the notes to something more electronic. I smile when I hit the perfect type of instrument. I play a simple chord with my left hand, adding a moving chord of the same notes to the right.

"_There I was again tonight, forcing laughter, faking smiles, same old tired, lonely place… Walls of insincerity, shifting eyes and vacancy, vanished when I saw your face… All I can say is it was, enchanting to meet you… Your eyes whisper 'have we met?', cross the room your silhouette, starts to make its way to me… The playful conversation starts, counter all your quick remarks like, passing notes and secrecy. All I can say is it was, enchanting to meet you… Oh darling I was so enchanted to meet you, too…" _I sing, the melody flushing out any coherent thoughts I could have.

_ "This night is sparkling, don't you let it go. I'm wonderstruck, blushing all the way home. I'll spend forever, wondering if you knew, I was enchanted to meet you… Too…" _I sing, glancing periodically at England, who is absolutely entranced by my singing, staring at me with a slack jaw, eyes red from crying.

"_This was the very first page, not where the story love ends. My thoughts will echo your name, until I see you again. These are the words I held back, as I was leaving too soon… I was enchanted to meet you too... Please don't be in love with someone else… Please don't have somebody waiting on you… Please don't be in love with someone else… Please don't have somebody waiting on you…"_ I sing quietly, before hitting the loud chorus again.

"_I was never in love with someone else, I never had somebody waiting on me… 'Cause you are all of my dreams come true, and I just wish you knew, darling I am so in love with you…"_ I finish. Everyone was crying, or laughing, or just being happy. They're all still slow dancing or clapping or cheering. I grin happily, before looking at Arthur and Alfred. Both have their jaws wide open. Alfred keeps on blinking, and Arthur closes his mouth, clearing his throat before staring at me again, adverting his eyes and blushing furiously. I smile at his reaction, before looking at Ivan. _My main man, my boyfriend-_

He's giving me the death glare. His eyes are on fire, with harshness and sorrow and anger_. Of course he's going to be angry, I just confessed my love in a song for someone I didn't know and if I had only looked at him during the song once, he wouldn't have gotten this idea._ I freeze, recognizing the way his eyes squinted. _The look… I've seen it before… It was a look of disappointment, the same one I would get when I disobeyed my… my…_

My head aches, my stomach is clenching tightly. Alfred, Ivan, anyone I may know in the audience watches my expression worriedly. _I feel so sick… I think I might throw up-_

_ -Maryanne Matthews, age thirty, found dead. Detectives confirm it was a suicide, her eyes gouged out by a small pair of silver sewing scissors, located beside Mrs. Matthews's body. Her daughter, Allison Matthews, was awake in her mothers' closet, bound and gagged, sobbing. Doctors say that after being malnourished and abused her life of nine years at the time, she will finally be rescued and sent to a distant relative's home. 'I hope it's better, but I'll miss all of my friends.' Allison tells reporters. 'Even though she was mean, I love my mommy. I hope she's in a happy place now, where she can play the piano all the time, more than she did at home'-_

"I… I… I…" I feel my eyes close, and hear the thump of my body hitting the floor.


	58. Extra-Small-Interlude

THIS

ONE

TOO

PLEASE

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

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_ I always thought I had had a happy childhood, but I just didn't like my life, so I left._

_ That's not the case._

_ I can remember everything now._

_ I remember when I was little, my mother teaching me so much on the piano, but not nicely. I learned jazz, rock, pop, classical, and contemporary, but by force. I remember that she would yell and call me 'stupid' or 'influent' when I denied playing or played wrong. I remember that I can sing, and that I know guitar, and a little ukulele. I remember how my mother had killed herself, cutting her eyes out with scissors. I remember that, although she was a cruel woman, I had loved her, and I had wished her the best in the afterlife._

_ I remember going to live with my older sister, Melody, and her boyfriend, Chuck. I remember how I would find hospital needles and smoking pipes in the bathroom, and how I would also find blood drops on floors, walls, even on furniture. I remember how after they got completely wasted and high on their drugs, they would either forget about me or, if worse came to worse, hurt me and call me names. My sister would yell and scream and give me punishments for no reason, while my brother-in-law would hit, cut, kick, and burn me with his cigarettes. I remember not having any true, real friends, and hating the way I looked, all skinny and bruised and scabbed and scarred. _

_ I remember being thirteen, and stealing enough money to run away. I remember before then, listening to my teacher talk about the world, which caused me to remember that I flew to Britain, using my sister's credit card. I bought a bunch of stuff that I might need, including a large backpack, and also rented out a small, dinky, crappy, unfurnished apartment. I got a job at a bar as a musician. My scars and scabs and bruises healed, and I finally had a decent-ish life. My boss was a nice man who kept me company and gave me money for essentials after I clipped the credit card so I wouldn't get caught. I remember calling him Uncle Oliver. I remember having a donated – By Uncle Oliver, of course - child's bed, with ragged quilts and a pillow, and the bathing necessities I would need. When we were asked, my boss and I said we were related. I never explained why I left my sister to him, just that I did and had no intention of ever returning. He understood, although I don't know why, for he never told me. I told him of my plan to keep moving and exploring, so I wouldn't be caught, and he nodded, and gave me more money, sending me on my way. I miss him, come to think of it. He was truly family._

_ I remember visiting France afterwards. I remember working at a café in a small city. My coworker, Francis, let me live with him for the small time I was there. He was kind and sweet, and I grew a small crush on him, the first crush I had ever had on anyone. He returned it, but the night I found out about it, I left._

_ I remember moving from crappy apartments, to stingy motels, to unlocked basements, to abandoned barns. I remember my clothes growing gross and stale and too small, so I would use whatever money I could get through dirty jobs and handouts to buy food and clothes. Talking to others was very difficult, because I did not know their native languages most of the time. It was troubling._

_ I remember being fourteen and stuck on the streets of Russia, with no food or jacket of any sort. I remember that cold, dark, winter night when I was gang-raped in a back alley by a group of college boys. I remember Ivan being one of the six men. I remember not telling anyone about how soiled my clothes got after that, or how I started bleeding from down there a few days later, for the first time. I remember learning it was natural, and part of growing up, when I was in Europe once again._

_ I remember being sixteen, and being in Canada, when I was found. They all said how amazed they were at my hiding for so long, and that my family had been worried sick. Bullshit. I remember escaping them, and stealing a boat from a dock in Mexico, fleeing towards Australia. I remember finding the boat to be a cargo boat, full of pills of some sort. I remember taking most of them, hoping it would help me get away, once and for all._

_ I remember waking up on the Island._

_ I guess the pills worked, huh?_

_ I need to wake up._

_ I can't move, my body is made of cement. I don't even know if I have a body. I can't see anything. My eyes are closed, if I have any. I don't want to open them, for that means going forward in this life, explaining all of what I remembered to everyone, seeing their expressions. Their pained expressions._

_ I'll sleep more._

_ Maybe I'll forget again._


	59. Part Three: England

Part Three: England

Introducing Sealand, Monaco, and Poland

With America, Hungary, Austria, Romano, Spain, Russia, Canada, France, Italy, Germany, Prussia, Japan, and England


	60. Fifty-Three

Hi! Guess who's back? I AM! Ahahaha here's some chapters

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_The silence is suffocating._

I can't do very much. I feel drowsy, although I've been sleeping for what feels like years. Whenever I would wake up, someone would be in the room, whispering to me. Each time it was a different voice. I didn't know if I could figure out who it was, so I would just go back to sleep.

I feel refreshed, although I know I could do some more sleeping. I want to keep sleeping. I don't want to wake up yet. _But I suppose I will have to eventually. Might as well as wake up now, I don't think I'll be able to go back to sleep. Besides, more time sleeping means more chance of… Thinking._

I first feel my surroundings. I am on something comfortable, no doubt a bed of some sort. It's warm and cozy, and judging by the feel of the thick mass of blankets covering me, it's my bed in Hungary's house. _I'm still at Hungary's. Maybe everything was a dream._ I open one eye slowly.

The room is empty.

I quickly shut my eyes, the sun coming through the curtains blinding me. When I feel certain that I can handle it, I open both eyes, scanning the room. Everything is still. I turn onto my side, away from the window, and pull my knees up to my chest.

I finally cry.

It feels soothing, I feel like I haven't cried in years. Although I cried when comforting Francis, this cry is for me, no one else. I feel alone, and the thoughts of everything seep into my brain, causing shivers of disgust to wrack my body in violent, quiet sobs.

_ My mother abused me, and killed herself. I don't know why. My sister and her boyfriend, they abused me and themselves. They did drugs, and a lot of them. Uncle Oliver and Aunt Christine and Thomas and Angie… What happened to them? Those men in Russia… Those men with Russia… They all raped me, and had no remorse whatsoever. I tried to kill myself when I couldn't take it anymore…_

_ I know everything about myself now. I can't believe it anymore, I'm so sick of everything…_

Someone opens the door, and I don't try to hide from them.

Gilbert rushes over to me, checking all vital signs. He then begins trying to comfort me. He's saying things, I don't know what. He's asking me questions, but I can't hear him. He's muffled. Eventually he just hugs me, and I bury my face into his shoulder.

"I-I-I…" I try talking, but my mouth feels funny and my jaw is numb and my tongue feels swollen, unnatural.

"Shh… It's okay…" He mumbles, before calling out, "She's awake! Someone! She's awake!" I tremble in his arms, and he rubs my back soothingly. I feel like a small child, unable to care for myself. A wail of fear and pain and sorrow erupts from my mouth, and I muffle into Prussia's shirt. I hear people running, and almost fifteen people come rushing in. I stare at all of them, still crying.

America, Hungary, Austria, Romano, Spain, Italy, Germany, Canada, Russia, France, England, Japan, Honey, and Patty are standing, glancing worriedly at me and each other. Some begin doing things, like assessing my physical, mental, and emotional state, while others begin trying to talk to me or explain things to me, while others just stand back, twittering worriedly with others. I begin shaking violently, fear and nervousness and embarrassment and plenty of other emotions pulsing through my body.

"Everyone _out_!" Hungary shouts roughly, causing the room to go silent once again. They all look at me, then Hungary, and leave. Prussia still holds me, and Hungary puts a hand on his back. "I have this, Gil. I can take her from here." She whispers, and he nods, pulling away. They share a glance at each other, before he leaves and I'm left with Hungary and my thoughts. I pull the blankets up around myself, shivering. I feel cold. Hungary takes a seat on the bed next to me.

"…Are you okay, baby?" She asks. I nod, then sort of shake my head. Tears are seeping out of my eyes. "Do you want to talk about it?" I shake my head. "Do you want to talk about anything?"

"I… I…" _My voice hurts._ Hungary stands up quickly.

"Let me get you some water." She concludes, rushing out of the room and returning quickly with a tall glass of the clear liquid. I shake when I hold the glass; I'm very tense. I gulp some down before I drop it overall.

"Ah…" I sigh. "I want to… Talk to them all… One… A time…" I shudder out. She nods solemnly.

"Alright. Who first?"

"…A… Alfred…" I whisper, curling into a cocoon of warmth. She nods again and heads out.

"Hungary…?" I ask quietly. She turns quickly.

"Yes, honey?" She replies.

"…I'm… Food…" I blush, embarrassed that I can barely make a coherent sentence. She smiles.

"Don't worry, I'll make you some soup." She exits the room, and I sit for a few moments.


	61. Fifty-Four

Alfred bursts in nearly minutes after Hungary leaves. He dives onto my bed, immediately snuggling me.

"Are you okay? Does anything hurt? How are you? Did you go crazy? How are-"

"Fine. I'm… Okay…" I try making a good word line, and am momentarily proud of myself when I get a decent sentence out. "How… Long was I… out?" I ask.

"Just a day. It's November second." He informs, and I sigh.

"What… Happened after I…" I can't finish.

"Well, everyone was pretty freaked when you pretty much dive-bombed off of the stage. When people realized you were out cold, Arthur, Ivan, and I all rushed over. Arthur and Ivan began fighting over who would pick you up and bring you to a safe place, and I finally shut them both up and carried you into here with Hungary's guiding. Everyone left back to their countries, except for those who came in here to greet you. And… That's pretty much it…" He explains. I nod slowly.

"How did… Costume?" I ask.

"We got you out of it, mostly Hungary though. You're in a pair of sweats and a t-shirt now. The wig and cap fell off while I was carrying you, and Hungary removed your makeup. You look fine." He describes. I nod again.

"…Oh…" I shudder, thinking about Ivan. _No wonder those boxers looked so familiar… Those were the ones he was wearing when… When… _I feel more tears sink down my face, and drop onto my blankets.

"Eh…" I stutter out. "I… Ivan… He… H-he…" I can't even get the words out.

"You want me to go get him?" America asks in a soothing voice.

"No!" I shout, trembling. "No, no no no no non non. Jamais plus jamais ce que je veux le voir le. Terrible, terrible..."

"Hey, hey! Calm down… You don't need to speak French…" Alfred shakes his hands in a 'do not want' type of way. "Here, let's talk about something else… Oh yeah! Remember when you said you wanted to call your boss? You're awake now, so you can call him!"

"I can… barely talk." I deny, looking down.

"You can talk enough to get him or her to understand!" Alfred rationalizes. I think about it, and nod.

"Alright… But later. I want… To talk to Canada…" I say. Alfred nods.

"I'll give you the number now, and you can call him later, then." He pulls out a pen and yanks my arm, writing in a ridiculous scrawl on my hand.

"Memorized…?"

"Yup. I have lots of stuff in my brain." He laughs, adjusting his glasses. I let a forced giggle escape from my mouth.

"Yeah…" America rises.

"Well, I'll go get Matthew." He finally says. I reach out and grab his shirt, pulling him roughly into a hug.

"Thank you for being here with me." I finally say a decent sentence without any pauses. I smile at myself. Alfred pats my back.

"No problem, Tally." _Tally… My name isn't Tally… It's Allison, Ally… No. I won't accept it. I… I'm no longer Allison. My name is Tally. Not Ally. Tally._

"Not… Allison… Tally." I decide. America is already gone.

I look around my room. Nothing has really changed. My costume is sitting in a heap on the floor in a corner. The bathroom door is open, revealing the small space. I need to go to the bathroom. I quickly rise, stumbling slightly from lack of use of my leg muscles. I wobble to the toilet, my bladder nearly bursting. I sigh with relief as I sit, and I assess my situation. Canada should be coming in any moment. I'm sitting on a toilet, relieving myself. I look like crap, my hair feels extremely greasy. _I feel worse than I have in ages._

Yet thinking about talking with Canada makes me feel unreasonably giddy. I flush quickly, rising up. The hairbrush on the sink is a savior, and I rip it through my head hastily. I stumble out of the bathroom, and curl back into my blankets. _It's so warm, I almost want to go back to sleep…_

The door opens. Much to my surprise, a small white bear walks in. I raise my eyebrows to an excruciatingly high position, before speaking.

"You… Kumajirou?" I ask. The polar bear nods.

"Yeah. I came to talk to you. What's-his-name is very concerned for you, but he's also very shy. He might not be coming in for a while." The bear explains. I sigh, looking down.

"Him coming to talk to me did seem like sort of a long shot… He doesn't like me very much…" I laugh bitterly, happy that my mind is off my memories.

"Oh, not that at all! He won't stop asking about you! He likes you a lot, and asks Hamburger Guy about you all the time!" Kumajirou denies. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to understand that 'Hamburger Guy' is Alfred, and I gasp.

"…Really?" I whisper.

"Yeah! But… I'm hungry. I want some food. Do you have any food?" He asks me. I laugh.

"Not yet, but I'm hungry too. Hungary should be coming in with some food for me soon, hopefully. Maybe you should go ask Canada."

"Who?"

"…Canada? You're owner?" I ask wearily. He nods.

"Oh yeah. Him." The bear comes up onto my bed, plopping down at my feet.

"Hey, you're an animal, do you know my two cats Millie and Tally? Do you think you could get them to come keep me company?" I ask hopefully.

"Sure, I'm friends with them. They're very kind. They even share their food with me! Maybe they can give me some today…" I smile at the bear, petting its head. The bear gives a noise of approval.

"You give good pets… I'll make sure what's-his-name decides to keep you. You're a nice lady."

"Thank you, Kumajirou." He climbs off my bed, and without a word, leaves. I sigh.

I wish it were Canada to walk through the door, but it wasn't. The next one two were Italy and Germany.

"Tally, are you okay?" Italy cries, running towards me. I give a broken laugh before patting his head from the bed. He sits next to me.

"I've been better. I've been worse." _Oh, that's debatable. Which is worse, experiencing physical pain one at a time, or mental, emotional pain all at once?_

"Well," Germany interjects, "You look fine." I half-smile at the tall German.

"Thanks." I reply dryly. "You do too. I hope you two are doing well?" Italy nods eagerly.

"Ja, we're doing fine." Germany takes a seat on a nearby chair, while Italy continues sitting on my bed.

"Your Halloween was good?" I ask.

"Oh, yeah! We had a blast driving up over here, but Ludwig wouldn't give me a turn." Italy pouts. Germany smirks.

"You can't drive, Feliciano." Germany reminds.

"I have a license though!" Italy rebuttals.

"… Like I said, you can't drive." Germany concludes.

"Anyways, we had a nice drive here, and the party was fun, up until when you fell off the stage!" Italy exclaims, flinging himself to hug me. "We were so worried, we thought you had died!"

"Really…" I sigh.

"Yeah!" Italy nods eagerly, pulling away from me. "Even Luddy was showing some emotion!" I glance at the blonde, who begins blushing.

"…Really?" I ask in wonder. One side of my mouth quirks up in awe.

"…W-well, I was really worried, because we're friends and all." He states, looking away. I begin grinning like an idiot.

"Aw, thanks! That's sweet…" I comment, smile slowly fading. "I… What does it feel like?"

"What does what feel like?" Germany asks.

"Both of you… What does love feel like?" Germany immediately blushes, staring down at the ground. Italy grins, looking upwards.

"It… Feels like you're time-traveling. Every day you spend with the one person is never enough, and you end up spending more and more time with them, only to find time is quickly passing… And you don't even notice it. Years could go by, and you would feel like you had met them just yesterday… But then it feels like no time is passing at all… You can feel it in your bones, in your skin, a happiness. You feel a bounce in your step, almost as if you could fly…" The Italian describes, and I smile at him. _He feels all of this._

"…It feels like an understanding." Germany finally interjects. I turn to look at him. "There's a certain bond between the two of you; One full of inside jokes, and memories, both the happy and the sad… No one can get in-between the bond, it's something both of you come to understand. You feel heavier, having to worry for both yourself and another, but you get stronger quickly, and find it easier to care for two people than for one. It's very intimidating at first, but… You sort of become friends with the fact that you are in love." Italy and Germany share a look, before Germany looks away.

"…Huh… That's knowledgeable. I wish I would have known that sooner." I grin at myself. "I'm so happy, I can finally speak with decent grammar and punctuation and everything. I wasn't able to do that when I woke up." _It's getting easier to keep my mind off of my memories. I just can't be left alone with nothing to do but think-_

"Here we are! A nice bowl of chicken soup!" Hungary bursts into the room, carrying a tray with a big bowl, some crackers, and a spoon. My stomach immediately rumbles. I grin.

"Praise the Lord. I'm starving." I comment. She sets the platter down on my lap.

"There you are dear. I hope you like chicken."

"I love chicken." I take about seven crackers, crumpling them all into the bowl of steaming liquid. It looks delicious. I give a big bite. It tastes delicious.

"God fucking damn this is good." I grumble, shoveling more into my mouth. I look up at everyone.

"Well… I'm going to keep eating, and won't do much visiting…" I comment, and they all get the hint.

"Oh! Right! Well, we'll be off!" Italy rises quickly, grabbing Germany's hand. "Ciao, Bella!" He walks out, dragging a waving Germany with him. I grin at the both of them.

"Thank you for finally getting them together, Tally." Hungary states.

"Not a problem."

"And then Lithuania and Belarus, and Antonio and Lovino, and Gil and myself! Jeez, what are you, some sort of cupid?" She laughs. I smile, this one softer.

"Some sort, I guess." _Some sort that can barely get her own love life sorted out._ "Thank you for the food, Hungary. It really is yummy."

"Oh, thank Roderich! He cooked it for you, instead of coming to visit you. He isn't one for sappy one-on-ones." She explains.

"Huh. I will."

"Well, I'll be off. Tootles!"

"Oh, bring Japan in here next, okay?"

"I will!"


	62. Fifty-Five

Japan enters and sits quietly on the chair. I smile at him gently.

"You asked for me to come in here?" He reassures softly. I nod.

"Yeah." I answer simply. A few moments go by.

"…Why? If it's alright to ask…" He meekly speaks up.

"Well, you're the quietest, calmest country I have ever met. I want some peace for once." I sigh. "Although it's not something I really need right now, especially with the circumstances."

"Everyone is asking out there… What's changed? We all can notice you're different. Something has happened, something has changed you." He comments. I tilt my head to the side.

"…Do you remember everything you have ever done?" I ask finally. "I mean, all of your memories, the good and the bad?"

"Well… Yes, I suppose." He considers.

"If you could do something to remove those terrible memories, would you do it?" I ask. _Would he do what I did?_

"…No."

"Why not?" I inquire.

"Because without those 'bad memories', I wouldn't have learned what I did from them." He explains. I nod. "Besides," He continues, "You can't remove the bad without removing the good too. The good comes with the bad, like a buy-one-get-one sale." I giggle at the simile.

"You only look about my age," I note. "Yet… You have an aged look to you. You're mature."

"Thank you." He replies. "You'll look like this too, someday. We all look like this, at some point." I look down.

"…Who's the youngest country? Like, in physical looks?"

"Hm… Probably Sealand. Maybe Wy?"

"Oh, yeah. Most likely Wy. She seems to be only nine or ten, yes?" I conclude.

"How do you know Wy? You have met her?" He asks, surprised.

"Well, no. I learned of her in Gilbert's class."

"Oh, I see. He is very knowledgeable about history…" We're silent for a few moments.

"You're very smart, Tally." Japan remarks. I blush.

"Ah, thanks."

"Especially with the way you avoided my original question."

"Heh… You caught me…" I grimace. "Let's just say I got caught in some… Memories…"

_-My mother's body as they rolled her away on the gurney unwrapped-_

_ -Tending to my own wounds after my step-brother passed out along with my sister-_

_ -Russia whispering softly into my ear, "Quick and easy, do not worry," as his friends snicker, waiting their turn-_

"Tally, you're quaking! Are you okay?" Japan stands up worriedly, pulling me from my stupor. I'm trembling in fear and worry.

"I-I… Can't…" I whisper, curling tightly, muscles straining with tense clenching.

"Ah… Ah… I'll… Get someone…" He mutters determinedly. I shake my head.

"No… No one should worry… I'm… F-fine…" I wheeze, closing my eyes tightly. I breathe in and out a few times, getting my mind off of itself. "Tell… Me… About yourself… Know you better…" I grumble.

"Oh… Ah… My human name is Kiku Honda, I live at home with… A cat, a dog, and a rabbit… I don't like talking to others…" He rattles off. I begin thinking of him, how he lives his life. I force a giggle, wrenching my body to cooperate.

"Okay… Okay… I'm okay…" I breathe a sigh of relief. "Sorry… That's going to be happening for a while… I don't think I'll be able to live by myself for a few days…"

"Well, if you ask I'll be hospitable and you can come stay with me-"

"No, no it's fine, you don't need to." I decline quickly. "I think I'll just stay a few extra days with Elizabeth… Maybe…"

"Well, alright." He stands. "I need to get home now. I'm afraid that with my extended stay, my pets might not have enough food to eat." I nod.

"Okay. I'll talk to you soon?"

"Of course." He agrees, opening my door.

"Japan?" I call.

"Yes?"

"Why did you feel the need to stay anyways? We don't really even know each other…" I comment, confused. I see a hint of a smile, before it's gone.

"Well, let's just say I got caught up in my own memories." He replies, and exits.


	63. Fifty-Six

These next few are gonna be kinda short, sorry! I'm going to get them out as fast as possible, and start on some longer ones, promise! uwu

! #$%^&*()_! #$%^&*()_! #$%^&*()! #$%^&*()

I sit in my room alone, polishing off any leftover food, when Honey comes in. She sits timidly at the very end of my bed.

"... I was sent to make sure you're doing okay." She mumbles quietly. I smile.

"I'm feeling fine, although I'm slightly worried about you. Are you doing okay?"

"I'm… F-fine…" She stutters, looking down.

"I know how you feel… I know…" I tell her, leaning up. She turns towards me surprise reflecting in her eyes.

"You… Know?" She whispers.

"About the fact that in some way you were sexually forced to do something? Yeah. I know." I smile sadly. "I know… A lot about that…"

"…You too?" She faintly asks, almost inaudible. Her eyes shine with tears.

"Me too…" I say, before I lean completely up and give her a squeeze. She sobs into my shoulder, and although I want to cry with her too, I have to be stronger. For now, anyways.

"You don't have to say anything if you don't want to, although it helps to get it off your chest…" I coax, rubbing circles into her back. She shudders.

"A-alright…" She mumbles, before sitting upright, wiping her eyes. "I was nine, and… and my mother wanted me to go get my little brother from school. I didn't have school that day… and he was only four… We were walking back, but we got a little lost, and it was dark and we were wandering the streets. A man dragged the both of us into an alley… and killed my… M-my…"

"Shh… It's alright… That dirty son of a bitch mother fucker." I curse.

"And… after he was… Gone… The man said that if I screamed he would kill me… And he took off my clothes… A-and…" She sobs quietly, the story wracking her weak frame. "I tried fighting, but nothing worked…" I feel anger bubbling inside of me.

"That dirty asshole! Who the fuck was he?"

"I don't know… I couldn't see him in the dark. He was really tall, and thin, like paper… He was wearing an army suit, one of our countries army members…"

"…I'm gonna find him, one day. I will. I will." I pledge, holding her. "And you stay away from Ivan, the tall fellow out there with the scarf. He'll hurt you too. He hurt me."

"R-really? Then why is he here, if he's a bad man?" She asks.

"…Because he felt the need to see me. He's my boyfriend, sort of…" I try to explain, but it even sounds twisted in my mind. "Well, it's hard to explain…"

She nods, and we sit for a few more moments. She realizes that, since she's a maid, she has a job to do, and she rises quickly, scrubbing her face of tears.

"Be strong, dear. Don't take shit from anyone!" I advise strongly. She nods quickly.

"Don't worry, Tally. I can take it. Nothing worse can happen, right?" She smiles, and leaves before I can tell her otherwise.


	64. Fifty-Seven

Oh, and if you could review every one, that'd be pretty radical, too! :D

! #$%^&*()! #$%&*()_! #$%^&()_! #$&*()_

Antonio and Lovino are next.

"Hi, you guys!" I say excitedly. Spain greets me back happily while Romano mutters a hello.

"Aw, what's wrong, Lovino?" I ask.

"…You had me worrying my_ ass_ off, that's what. You dating that _asshole_? Are you _serious_?" He shouts angrily. Spain remains silent, looking down.

"Well… I _was _serious…" I explain. Romano's demeanor immediately goes from annoyed to bat-shit pissed.

_"What. The hell. Did he do."_ He growls, furious. I blush.

"N-nothing." I stutter. _Why am I backing up Russia? I know very well I want his ass kicked, but I'm not letting Romano take care of it._

"If you don't tell me right this mother fucking minute, I'll go out there and beat the damned reason out of that bastard." He warns.

"No you won't. You'll get the shit beaten out of you, no offense. Besides, I don't want you to do anything about it. I have it handled." I lie easily. His chest heaves a few times, before he sighs.

"I wonder how the turtles are doing…" Spain comments. "I hope they're doing okay. I don't want little Margret to get hurt, especially with Roberto being a macho these days…" Spain laughs, completely in his own little world.

"I told you not to name the turtles! We still have to get rid of them!" Lovino grumbles. I giggle at the two of them.

"You have turtles? I have turtles!" I exclaim. Spain looks like the happiest person in the world.

"Really? I love turtles, they're so cute and adorable!" Spain gushes. I laugh.

"I have a lot of them at my home. We also have lots of other animals…" I trail off, thinking about my land. _I miss it._

"I want to come over as soon as possible!" Spain decides. I nod.

"Next time I'm home, I'll have you two and Japan and everyone else come visit. Not a lot of people have been to my home, only Alfred." I comment.

"Then it's decided! We'll come over!" Antonio says. Romano sighs again.

"God damn it… Two turtle lovers…" He growls.

"…Well, I'm done here! I need to start packing!" Spain laughs happily. I chuckle at his idiocy. He nearly drags out a hissing Romano, and when the door opens next, Francis enters with my two cats.

"Babies! Are you alright?" I ask worriedly. Tally and Millie grumble.

"We'd be better if we weren't worrying about you." Millie says.

"Yeah! One minute I'm talking with Kuma, the next- You're on your face, flat on the ground!" Tally exclaims. "I rushed over immediately, trying to wake you up. But you wouldn't wake up. Ivan was saying that you fainted! He looked the most worried out of everyone!" I blush at that.

"Oh…"

"Ally, you can speak cat?" Francis asks. I nod.

"Yeah, I've been told I was Greek. Although I haven't met the country, I guess he must be nice enough?" I try.

"Well, what were they saying?"

"Ah… They were worried for me." I explain hesitantly.

"Ah, everyone was, mi amour." He smirks. "Russie, Canada, et Angleterre, to be precise." I blush.

"Why England?"

"I don't know. I can never tell what goes through his head at times." Francis laughs with spite.

"Why were the two of you fighting, anyways?"

"Well, I was just pleasantly visiting with him. I asked if he had a lover, and he overreacted. Troublesome boy won't listen to big brother any more than he did when we were children." France lets out a small 'humph' of laughter. I nod slowly.

"Oh… You seemed rather… Harsh, to him." I comment quietly. He tenses.

"When it comes to him, I'm always harsh. I've learned to give what I receive. He is a very, very prickly, cruel man." He replies, rising from his chair. "I have to leave, mon ami. My boss is becoming rather… Tense." He excuses.

"Francis?" I ask.

"Oui, petit tigre?" He asks, smiling.

"Don't… Try not to be too harsh on him, okay?"

"And why not?"

"… I just feel no one deserves pain when they've had plentiful of it." I mumble quietly. He nods, and leaves. Gilbert comes in immediately afterwards.

"Of course the patient needed a visit from the awesome me." He smirks, laughing.

"…Of course I did." I sigh. His face falls.

"Did you… Not want to see me?" He asks. "Oh, yeah. That's it. I'm sorry, I'll just go-"

"No! It's fine!" I cry, then lower my voice. "Stay. It's okay. I need to talk to you anyways." He turns back to me, eyebrow raised.

"You sure?" He asks.

"God damn it, I swear to Satan take a seat, or I will shave your eyebrows off." I grumble. He laughs nervously and sits on the chair, crossing an ankle of his knee.

"Alright, alright. No need to get violent." He smirks, happy once again. I grin at him.

"So. What have I missed in the past few days?"

"Well, the tension between France and England is borderline murderous; Austria has been nice enough to make food and Hungary's been enough of a babe to let everyone stay a little while. Everyone – myself included – is scared of the weird friendship going on between Russia and Austria. Spain and Romano, good. Myself and Hungary, good. Italy and West, good. America's just chilling, nothing much happening with him. We played some video games, but got bored really quickly. He ended up just talking with Japan most of the time. No one really paid any attention to Canada other than America, Russia, and me. He's sort of a ghost."

"Fucking-ay." I sigh. "Why can't we all just get along for once, I mean seriously. How long has the fighting between England and France been going on?"

"Well, since before you were born. Since before I was born. Since… Well, ever."

"Fuck." I curse.

"You're cussing a lot lately."

"My mental wall between being chill and completely going bat-shit on everyone is wearing thin." I chuckle.

"Don't take it out on me. If anyone, beat up Russia."

"Why Russia?" I ask, although _I already have more than enough reason to kill him._

"Well, you're the only one that could hit him without him getting pissed at you, being his girl and all." Prussia replies, brushing his white-ish bangs to the side.

"True…" I mutter.

"Well, I need to go help Lizzie. I'll bet money that England and France are fighting again."

"See you later. Good luck with Hungary. I hope you two stay together for a while."

"Yeah," He says, smiling. I see a shine of joy and happiness in his bright cherry eyes, "Me too."


	65. Fifty-Eight

I sit in the room, waiting for the next visitor. I can kind of tell who it is that will be next; he's waited this entire time to come see me.

It's unsurprising when my guess, Ivan, enters.

"Hello, dear." He greets, smiling happily.

"Hey." I grumble. His violet eyes stare at me, and I shudder in anger and sadness.

"What is the matter? You seem tense." He comments, his trademark smile adorning his face.

"Of course I'm tense. I kind of… _Don't like you at the moment_." I explain unsympathetically. He widens his eyes.

"Why is that?"

"…Do you have human friends? College student age?"

"Well, of course I do. Everyone does from their country."

"Did you have some about… Thirteen-ish years ago?"

"Da, I did…" His answers slow, he becomes more suspicious. "Why?"

"Did you ever… I don't know… Go out with them? Get a couple drinks, and prowl the streets?" I whisper. He blinks a few times.

"Yes, once or twice." He answers.

"Was there a girl, with bright green eyes, shivering in the cold of an alleyway, which you and your friends happened to pick on, on this fateful, winter night?"

"…How did you-"

_"You know very well how I knew."_ I spit out.

"Y-you…?"

_"Yes, me_. I'm the girl that you and your friends raped." I inform, tears prickling my eyes. His face shows a little surprise, but a lot of guilt.

"I am sorry, I did not-"

_"Bullshit_ you didn't know. I know very well that you knew from the minute you saw me."

"I have tried to be a nicer person to you, to right my-"

"Do you know how long those memories of that haunted my mind? After that happened, I immediately left as fast as I could. I started my period prematurely, because of you and your fucking friends. I was sick for so long. I've remembered a lot of shit from my past. Did you know that I tried _killing myself_ after that?" I rush out, tears streaming down my face. "It took me three years, _three years,_ to get your memory from my mind. And even after I lost everything I could remember, it still haunted me. I'd wake up, crying and frightened, afraid of people that I didn't even recall meeting. You know how badly that tripped me out? I fucking stopped-"

"I did not mean for that to happen-"

_"Bull-fucking-shit!_ Don't lie to me, you are just as responsible as all of your fucking assholes of friends!" I shout, sobbing. "I… I trusted you… I love you… And you never told me about this? You never tried explaining this to me? You kidnapped me, because I was 'interesting'? No!"

"Stop it!" He shouts, flustered. "Shut up, shut up, _shut up_!" He yells angrily. I now remember the childish nature he has about himself.

"No! I won't! I never will!" I scream myself, and before I know it, Russia's hand is up in the air about to hit me. I close my eyes tightly, bracing for the large impact about to come.

_It doesn't._ I open one eye, and see that the hand is still in the air, yet just because he hadn't moved it from the spot yet. All force is gone from the arm, and his face… Tears are streaming from his eyes. He looks completely and utterly broken.

"T-Tally, I-"

"You need to leave…" I whisper, shutting my eyes. "I can't. I'm sorry. You hurt me too much for anything more to happen."

"Tally, I love you. I cannot just leave you. You are the first person I have ever loved like this, I-"

"I love you too. But it's a sad, broken love, unfixable. It won't ever be the same. I used to love you for the strong, independent, funny man you were. But now…" My voice lowers to a raspy whisper, voice sore from shouting, _"Now I only pity you. And fear you. Congratulations, I'm scared of you."_

He hasn't even sat down, and he turns to leave. The door is open, and he turns back to me.

"Get better soon."

With that, he's gone. I feel so emotionally drained, I even think I forgot how to speak. A low gurgle escapes from my mouth, as I cover it with a cold, pale hand. Without even knowing it, I'm freezing. My face is sticky from tears. _I'm so tired. I need a nap…_


	66. Fifty-Nine

Hey! I'm just posting one chapter today, I'm about to leave and enjoy the fireworks because IT'S THE FOURTH OF JULY! ADIOS! VIVE LES ETATS-UNIS!

* * *

When I wake up, a sandwich and some chips are sitting on the bedside table with a glass of what I presume to be orange juice.

"Fucking _beautiful."_ I mumble, dreary with sleep-haze. My stomach growls. I sit up and pick up the sandwich, taking a huge bite out of it.

"Don't bite more than you can chew." I hear quietly from in front of me. I snap my head towards the familiar voice, one I haven't heard in a week, although it feels much longer.

"Canada?" I whisper. He waves quietly. His hair has grown, but his eyes are the same remarkable violet that they have always been.

"Hey." He greets. I quickly put down my sandwich and jump onto his lap, burying my face into the crook of his neck.

"Canada… I've missed you…" I whisper, quietly crying into his red sweater. His hands automatically go up around my back, squeezing me gently.

"I've missed you too, Tally." His voice is soft, still. _It's the voice I've been missing. The voice I've been needing._

I slap him across the face once our hug ends. A cry of pain escapes his throat.

"That's for not coming to visit me." I growl.

"But-" I silence him by kissing him, long and slow.

"…That's for coming to visit me." I whisper, before kissing him again. He pushes me away.

"Thalassa, you can't! Ivan-"

"_Russia's_ a cunt that I don't want to be influenced with anymore. Asshole." I grumble, before hugging the agile man I'm sitting on.

"Might I ask why?" Canada says in his sweet, sugary voice.

"He raped me when I went to visit him as a child." I state bluntly. He pulls away quickly.

"What?!" He shouts, surprising me. His voice is never higher than a whisper at best.

"Yeah. Him and his human friends, all gang-raped me before we knew each other. I was fourteen." I explain. Canada's face turns red with anger.

"Why, I'll kill that-"

"No you won't. I don't want either of you getting hurt. I love you both. If you both start fighting, I'll say _'fuck it' _and go live with Japan." I warn, and he sighs, not questioning my feelings. _That's one of the reasons why I love him._

"Well, at least I'm going to end this piece of crud treaty with him." I raise an eyebrow.

"That's good, but… Crud? Really?"

"Would you rather I call it a giant wad of shit from the seventh layer of hell with an added bonus of a bloody dildo used by Stalin himself?" I giggle, kissing him again.

"Yes?"

"Cool. That's what I wanted to say."

"Good job for speaking your mind."

"Thank you."

"So. How has your country been doing?"

"Eh, pretty good. Snowstorms and fuck, but hey, it's my country, I'm proud of that s-shit."

"Thank you for cussing, it makes me feel like less of a potty mouth."

"No problem."

"I met your bear Kumajirou, he was really nice, but he was hungry. Did you feed him?" I ask.

"Yeah, he wouldn't stop pestering me about it, even though he doesn't even remember my name."

"You don't remember his either." I note.

"Oh well." He huffs, and I giggle, leaning my head against his shoulder.

"I've missed you, having conversations like this." I mumble. He pats my back.

"Me too, Thalassa. Me too."

"You know that we can't be together…"

"…You finally realized it, eh?"

"Yeah." I sigh. "I really love you, I do. But, I've changed since we met. I'm more tense, more self-protected. This will probably be the last time I ever really have a heart-to-heart chat with you."

"I love you too, Tally. More than you will ever know."

"Someday, we should try again." I decide.

"Definitely. I would love to see how we both turn out in the long run. Maybe we'll be one of those crazy couples that no one saw coming." I look at him, my green melting into his violet.

"_Maybe we'll be the pairing everyone saw coming_." He smiles, sadly. I return the look, before we kiss one final time.

_This kiss…_ It's more passionate, more heartbreaking, more emotionally frustrating than anything I've ever felt in my entire existence. Tears are running down my face, dripping onto my clothes, and I feel the tears coming from Canada's eyes. _We almost made it. We almost had it. We were star-crossed, don't get me wrong… But… He passed over my trail, or maybe I passed over his. We almost collided, but we were just a little off. We might never cross again, or we might miss each other again. When the next fuckup happens, it could be tomorrow; it could be in fifty years. That's fate for you._

"Fucking destiny, I just want to be with people I love." I murmur into the kiss, and hear Canada's muffled agreement. We're both breathing heavily when we finally disconnect.

"…I need to get home…" Canada whispers into my hair.

"Five more minutes." I reply back.

"…Whatever you want."


	67. Sixty

Hey! I'm gonna update one or two chapters, then try catching up on my updates on Wattpad! (I post on Wattpad too, its a little old and sucky and full of dumb, cliche stories... But oh well, I'll get fans where I can, right? *sounds really self-centered and mean*

... Here's the next chapter or two.

* * *

When Canada finally leaves, we're both heartbroken and sobbing, but promise to visit each other soon. If I remember correctly, I should only have one more visitor.

_ England. Why does he feel the need to visit me? I want him to visit, but… Why does he want to? _A visual of the green eyed man enters my mind. He's smiling politely, but…_ The smile isn't reaching his eyes. When I first greeted him, he smiled, but not with his eyes. He's troubled. He's in need of some friends._

_ I'll be his friend. Yeah, I'll ask to go live with him, and I'll explain why I want to, and why I feel he needs a visitor, and I need a caretaker. It'll work. Maybe I'll even get to see Uncle Oliver-_

A sharp knock echoes throughout my small room.

"Come in." I proclaim loudly, and the door opens slowly to reveal messy dank blonde hair, a pair of thick eyebrows, and emerald eyes. I smile at England, who enters and closes the door.

"Hello, Arthur." I greet smoothly. He widens his eyes a little, before sitting down. "Why do you get so surprised when I greet you?"

"Not a lot of people greet others like that, especially people born and raised in America." He explains, grumbling the last portion of the sentence.

"…Did you seriously not hear the fact that, although I was born in America, I only lived there until I was about thirteen and booked it out of there?" I say, appalled. "Jesus, how many times do I have to say it until people start gossiping about it? God damn."

"…And there goes the politeness." He chuckles. I give a crooked smile, crossing my arms.

"I've been starting to think about the fact that I may or may not have some mental disorders, mainly bipolar disorder, but… Eh. I don't know, I'm not a psychologist." I laugh. His lips curve upwards, and I know I'm winning him over.

"So, what happened? Tell me your story." He insists. I blink, staring at him.

"You… Want to know?" I ask. "You sure? It's not particularly happy, and I can kind of see you to be the type to cry easily."

"I most certainly am not! Git!" He denies.

"Here, let us test this marvelous theory. _'Phantom of the Opera', 'Les Miserables',_ ah…_ 'Sherlock'_ – mostly the last episode of the third season – and… the first seven minutes of _'Up'_." I recall most of the movies and shows that I have heard were real tear-jerkers. I smile pleasantly at him.

Like I presumed, his eyes look glassy.

"I-It can't be that bad! Besides, you cheated! Overwhelming all of those into one combined sadness, that's not fair!" I look down, and back up at him.

"Okay, the reason why I passed out, was because of Ivan."

"Ivan!? What'd he do? Threaten you?" I laugh.

"Not exactly…" I take a deep breath, readying myself for the long story. "After I sang that last song, I glanced at him, and he was glaring at me, with a lot of sadness and disappointment on his face. It reminded me of my mother, which provided me a lot of answers I needed, yet… Didn't want to remember.

"When I was younger, I was named Allison Matthews, and I lived with my mother. She was a teacher, yet one who taught out of anger and fear. I learned much under her wing about music, although it led me to grow to despise musical instruments- although I can play the piano, the guitar, a little ukulele, sing, and I am decent enough with rhythm. She killed herself with a pair of scissors when I was nine, and I was found gagged and bound in her closet. I was sent to live with my older sister and her boyfriend, who both abused me until I was thirteen, at which time I stole a credit card, and left.

"Bought a passport with a fake name, Tally Fields, and flew to your country, England. I lived there the longest, working in a local pub with a boss who I would call 'Uncle Oliver'. He had a family, and immediately adopted me into his little world. I would sing at the bar, with decent tips, not to mention the money he would pay me weekly, about ten euro's. I knew I would have to keep moving before I was caught, and he understood, and gave me some money to get me set off. I went to France, staying there only a week. I worked at a café with a certain Frenchman named Francis, and although I was almost fourteen, I had a colossal crush on him." I blush lightly at the statement. "The day before I left, I told him my feelings, and he returned them, although he was, like, twenty-something. I left, traveling the world until I hit Russia.

"It was cold, and no one would hire me, forcing me to live on the streets, not knowing much Russian. I can speak English, French, and Spanish fluently, and know enough Russian and other languages to get by. Anyways, I got raped, long story short. A group of guys, Ivan being one of them. I started my per- Ah, growing up then, and traveled back towards Europe. I've been in nearly every country in the world, aside from most African countries, and flew back over to Canada. I was sixteen when they finally found me, and I fled from Canada, through America, down to Mexico, stole a boat, and set off. The boat was a cargo boat full of pills, and I decided to try and kill myself, stop dealing with everything for good. I woke up on my island, with no recollection of any of the past.

"I started anew, working hard to build a house, gather food, do everything needed to survive. I built much of the world onto my dinky island. I stopped aging at seventeen. Alfred found me when I was twenty-six. I'm twenty-seven now. At first he wanted to capture me, but I threatened to beat the living shit out of him, and I must have scared him pretty well, because he asked if I wanted to be a country. I said yes. I went back up to America with him, and Germany was there, waiting for us, wondering if America had kidnapped Italy. We easily figured out that it was Francis who had taken Italy, and I was sent to Europe with Germany to find Italy and take down France. Germany got kidnapped, and I seduced then beat France. Got Germany and Italy back. Stayed with them for a while, got them together, flew back to America's. Met Canada… Fell in love with Canada. Broke up with Canada. Went home.

"Completed setting up for being a country. Visited America, who had a surprise party for me. Met China, Japan, Lithuania, Estonia, and revisited with Germany, Italy, and America. Canada wouldn't come, and it made me sad. Lithuania and Estonia kidnapped me, took me to Russia. Met Russia. Liked Russia. Ran away from Russia. Got two cats that I can talk to. Walked to Belarus, who helped me flee to Ukraine. Ukraine helped me realize that I liked Russia. Went back to Russia. Stayed with Russia. Went to Austria's house, met Hungary, Austria, and Prussia. Went back with Russia. Banged Russia." I blush furiously at this part. "Ah… Left Russia, visited Hungary's house.

"Learned about everyone's past and weak spots from Prussia, called Russia, talked to Canada, who was over at Russia's, starting a treaty of some sort. Learned musical stuff from Austria. Learned weapons and stuff from Romano, I like Romano. He's cool. Ah, met anyone else who would be teachers to me. Made a fool of myself in front of them, learned more from Romano, sobbed maniacally. Dancing with Spain, I punched him when he touched me, he hugged me as if it were his fault, Romano came in, walked out. Got them to fix what happened and get together. Learned to dance, Googled myself, figured out a lot about my country. Ah, Manners n' stuff with Hungary, America and Japan came over for dinner. Got Austria and Hungary to break up so Hungary could be with Prussia like she wanted to. Nearly got molested by France, realized that France was Francis from France, both of us had a sob party, unrequited love or whatever, learned about sexual etiquette, went to bed early. Woke up next day, pampered like a bitch, Halloween party. Remembered everything I'd forgotten about before becoming a country. Passed out. Woke up here.

"Had America catch me up on everything, small-talked with Germany and Italy, Spain and Romano, Prussia, Hungary, Japan, and France. Told Russia to fuck off, piece of shit wanker, broke up with him, reminisced with Canada, realized that we wouldn't work, but that we should try again when we both fully mature or whatever. Now I'm here with you, and I've sort of came to the conclusion that I want to come live with you."

"Ah- Er- I- Uh…" England tries to make a coherent sentence, and fails. I smile sheepishly, when he finally figures what to say. "…I'm sorry about all that." He blinks a few times, and sniffs.

"I've grown used to it. Everyone has their poisons."

"But… Live with me? Why? Shouldn't you get back to your country?" He retaliates.

"I think that I might have a mental breakdown if I live alone with nothing to occupy my time." I counter.

"Why not stay with Alfred?"

"You need a friend. Someone that'll be there for you, no matter what." He's speechless after my explanation, and I turn red. "Sorry, that's just what I've noticed. _'Black sheep of Europe'_? I'm sorry, but that totally pointed out the fact that everyone else in Europe must be some sort of douche, because you seem like a pretty nice guy, and everyone else in the world is just cruel to you-"

"What the hell makes you think you can say that!?" He shouts, rising up. "I'm fine! Strong, even! I've always been strong!"

"Just because you've endured a whole bunch of bullshit from the very pits of Satan's asshole, doesn't mean you're strong. You're powerful, I'll give you that; you're just very well guarded. You've learned how to not let your guard down, how to not listen to what others have to say about you. Honestly, that's pretty good. Let people think what they want, bloody fuckin' cunt-bags! But… Sometimes, you need to take their words as a 'review' of sorts… _Was England the person a bad application? Does it have a few bugs needed worked out?_" I describe, standing myself, teetering. I nearly fall when Arthur catches me.

"I never-"

"See? What you're doing right now." I point out the fact that he caught me. "I give you a gold star. You're a nice guy, everyone else is just harsh to you, and you're fighting back the same way they do. They only way you know how to fight back."

"…You… Don't know anything…" He whispers.

"I know enough to know what you're going through, honey." I look at the man holding me. His green eyes are weak and fragile, his mouth is twitching between a smile and a grimace. I give him a lopsided beam before patting his hair.

"Wow, I didn't know your hair was so coarse. That's cool, although smooth hair is more common." I mess up his already untamed strands. "…I like it this way though. Francis's hair is pretty, sure, but I could mistake him for a girl. Maybe one of these days I should cut off his hair." I grin evilly at the thought. "I like that idea-"

"Shut up. Start packing." I raise an eyebrow.

"Packing? For what?"

"My place. You can come live with me, but only until New Years."

"Really? A whole two months?" I squeak, surprised. Almost immediately I grab tightly onto him, giving him a tight, anaconda bear hug. He muffles a groan of protest, but I'm too busy snuggling into the British fellow. He's about the same height as me, maybe a little taller. "Thank you, thank you, thank you! This is going to be so much fun, I can't wait! I hope I get to hang with you often!"

"Yes, sure." He grunts, but doesn't remove himself until I release him.

"This is going to be great! I hope-" Alfred burst in to a giddy me and a regretful Arthur.

"Hey," He speaks. I notice the cell phone in his hand, as he holds it to me, "I got a hold of your boss, he wants to talk to you." I nod, grabbing the phone after calling America an impatient little fuck.

"Hello, darling!" I acknowledge the man on the phone.

"Hello, Thalassa. It's been a while, yeah?" Jared Kingfield responds, chuckling lightly. Jared's a nice type of guy, a grandpa, with lots of experience in political matters. I think of him as a sort of uncles' cousin that you never really got to know, but you understand them well enough to either like them or dislike them. I like him, of course.

"Oh, yeah! At least two months, right? Well, I need to talk to you." I inform.

"Oh really? Well so do I!" He comments, and I sigh, wincing.

"Yeah… I know…"

"Okay, so you need to know that we are on good terms with lots of countries! I've talked with most of their leaders, and they have provided more people to come live on Thalassa!"

"Really? Wow! So every house is pretty much full then, right? That's so cool!" I gush, pretending to gag myself to England. He covers his mouth lightly, stifling a small chuckle.

"Idiot." He mouths to me, and I stick out my tongue, walking over to the window with a hand on my hip, listening to the old man ramble. Although most would find it annoying, I found it sort of endearing and cute in a little kid type of way.

"…And we found a cure for the common cold! Tuna and red dye number forty, wouldn't you know it?" I laugh as he finishes his rant.

"That's good. I'm proud."

"Well, what are you up to?"

"I'm in Hungary right now."

"Will you be coming home soon?" He asks, and I sigh. "Oh, that's a no, isn't it?"

"Well… I'll be gone until New Years at least, but I will need some supplies. Will you get me some?"

"Well, yes. I will. What do you need?"

"I'll need, all of my clothes – you know where I live on Thalassa, right? – I'll also need a phone with all of the countries contacts in them, along with the countries main leaders. It would also be cool if I could get, like, a couple of thousands of euro's…"

"I can get the clothes, and the phone will also be relatively easy. How many euros are you thinking?"

"Ah… Jeez, I dunno…" I sigh.

"I don't use those petty coins of tom-foolery." England mutters. "I use pounds of sterling."

"Oh! Never mind, I need pound sterling, then!" I exclaim.

"How many?"

"Uh… Hundred grand?"

"Do you mean one hundred thousand pounds!?" Jared nearly shrieks and has a stroke.

"Are you okay?! That's just the amount I thought I might need…"

"Hold on, I need a computer-" I hear some muffled shouting and scrambling. "-That would add up to… One hundred and fifty seven thousand, eight-hundred and seventy dollars! Are you insane!?"

"…I would prefer the term 'imaginary genius'…" I whimper lightly. "Fine, how about just fifty thousand?"

"Seventy-eight grand, nine hundred and thirty five."

"God damn it." I remove the phone from my ear. "Hey Arthur?"

"Yes?"

"How much money do you think I'll need to be able to buy anything I need in your country?"

"Ah… About twenty five thousand pounds?" He tries, before adding, "Anything you'll need I'll be able to get for you."

"Yeah… Uh, no… I'm sorry, but… I can't just accept that." I deny, before turning back to the phone. "How about twenty five grand?"

"Okay, that's a little better… Thirty-nine thousand, four hundred and sixty-seven."

"Perfect!" I exclaim brightly. "I'll need all of that!"

"Where will I send it?" I turn to look at Arthur. He's dreaming off, staring blankly at a wall. His eyes are deep, and his mouth is parted lightly. _He's really into whatever he's thinking about._

"Arthurs' house."

"Which one?"

"The one in London?" I call out loudly, snapping England out of his reverie.

"Yeah, London." He agrees, smiling lightly. I grin.

"Okay, will do." I bid farewell to Jared, wishing him a good Halloween, Christmas, and New Years, before turning back to England.

"A few things you should know." He informs. "I will probably be gone a lot. Being a country is rough when you're living in your own country. Don't be surprised if your boss sends you work to do while over at my home. I also might get frustrated with you. Easily."

"Well," I smile, walking over to him. _I haven't thought about everything since he came in, _"I think this is the beginning of an absolutely marvelous friendship." He smiles at me, and I can't help but repeat the gesture. _This is going to be fun._

I explain everything to Alfred, who shows a little worry.

"Are you sure? Completely sure?" He asks, troubled. "He's really hard to live with."

"Oh, he can't be that bad. I already like him a lot!" I beam happily, and America rubs my hair.

"He's controlling, so be careful, okay?"

"Why is everyone saying things like that? First you, then Ivan, then Francis… And now you again!" I huff, crossing my arms. "I am decently old enough to take care of myself, and know who is good and who is bad!"

"…And yet you're going to stay with someone when you can 'take care of yourself'." He chuckles, shoving his hands into the pockets of his varsity jacket.

"Well- I-" I stutter, blushing. "Okay… Maybe that's not the _whole _reason…" I say quietly.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Alfred teases. I look up at him, scrutinizing his pretty boy features.

"…Promise not to tell?" I mutter. He stands up straighter, lining his chest with an invisible X.

"Cross my heart and hope to die!" He affirms. I sigh, flopping onto my bed next to my completely packed suitcase. I had called Belarus and Ukraine; they said I could keep their clothes, although Belarus was more reformed and strict about the fact than Ukraine.

"Well… Alright. I do need help with living, I've had… Too many flashbacks…" I shiver.

"Of what?"

"I remembered everything." I state simply. He sits next to me.

"Like… Everything?"

"Yup. I won't explain it all now, I'll just say it wasn't the best and I sort of was traumatized and sort of tried to off myself. It didn't work, but I lost most of my memory." I continue. He releases a gust of air, looking down. I feel a clenching, tight coil around me, before realizing that Alfred had pulled me into his arms.

"That sucks, dude." He replies. I smile weakly as he pulls away.

"It's nothing, at least compared to what you all have been through in your extended lifetimes. That's why I haven't really bothered on telling anyone much of the stuff." I explain.

"I can understand that, but even all of us have vented about our past experiences to our allies." He explicates.

"… Anyways, I do need help with living, considering the fact that I might lose it until I get used to the memories, but it's more of a reason of… Wanting to… Get to know him." I release. "When I first ran away, I went to England. I was at home there. It was a safe, secluded hideaway for me. I loved every minute I was there. My adoptive family was nice, and I had much of the stuff I needed. I had to leave after a month or two, afraid that the police would recognize me from missing children reports, and take me back to your country. It was nerve wracking, and I eventually grew the courage to leave. I haven't really felt… Happy since then. Sure, I loved everywhere I went, not really noticing any bad memories of anywhere I might have gained throughout my travelling, but… Nowhere else is home, except for my island. Of course, in rationality I will always choose Thalassa as my home, but… When I think enough about it, I might just choose England. I loved it there. When I met England, that same feeling washed over me, the one that felt wanted, needed, the one that made me feel at peace and euphoric. It was refreshing. Plus… I really like Arthur. He seems like someone I want to know, someone I want to be friends with." I finish, leaning my face into my hands. "God, that sounds terrible. So girly and awkward and annoying. I'm sorry if I'm annoying you or boring you."

"Don't worry! I understand completely! I… feel like that about Kiku." He adds. I raise an eyebrow.

"_Japan?_ You got the goods for Japan?" I grin evilly.

"No! Not like that!" America fusses. I giggle.

"Alfred likes Japan! Alfred likes Japan!" I sing loudly.

"Not like that, Meanie!" He cries. I laugh out loud, rising quickly, and grabbing my bags. I have changed into a pair of warm jeans, a blue t-shirt, and a black oversized hoodie. The white moccasins shine brightly, never having left the house before. I feel my hair that's back in a braid, checking to make sure it's not messed up. Alfred also rises, adjusting his white undershirt before huffing.

"Thank you for listening, Alfred. It means a lot." I say. He looks up at my face, blue eyes widening behind his glasses, before giving a bright beam.

"No problem! I'm the hero; it's my duty to help everyone!" He cheers. I smile at his childish output.

"Good job, hero. I hope you get a badge or a key to the city or something…" I murmur, thinking. "You know, you really _are_ a sort of hero."

"What? Really?" His voice squeaks, his grin growing, exhilarated.

"Yeah… Even though you've been through your own hardships, you continue to help others without much of a plea for help. You've fought bad guys, gotten plenty of maidens – I'm sure – and you continue on strong. Without you, I would still be stuck on my island, not much of a memory or thought of you guys in my mind. Without you… I wouldn't have met a lot of my new friends. It's really great, when you think about it. So… Thanks. For everything." I shrug, picking up my bag. His face is nearly going to rip from his joyous grin, pinching up his cheeks, squinting his eyes, all of his teeth showing. He even has a dimple or two. I laugh.

"No problem, at all!" He shouts, and I open the door to my room, glancing back at him with a smile.

"You're one of my best friends, Alfred. I hope you realize that." I am immediately swooped up into a tight embrace, and twirled around.

"You too, Tally." He says brightly. I pat his back, turning to walk down the hall.

"Bye Alfred!" I call, walking down the hall.

"Later Tally!" He replies, the shout echoing throughout the home. I find Arthur in a living room, sitting quietly, some tea at his side.

"Ready to go?" I ask. He nods. Somewhere far off, we hear the cries and cheers of a certain American. I grin sheepishly. "Sorry, I think I boosted his ego too much."

"That boys' ego stopped growing a long time ago, but I think you might have just made it start up again," England sighs. I grimace.

"Yeah! I'm the hero! Me! Yeah!" Alfred shouts, and we hear a few small thumps, before one large bang and a groan.

"What the hell just happened?" I ask, worried.

"Most likely, he was doing some sort of dance run, and fell on his ass." Britain explains. I laugh.

"Twit. He should know better."

"Okay, I'm really confused," He notes, picking up his small bag and leading me to his car, "you don't have a British accent like mine, but you use British vocabulary. You also speak French, yet you cuss as much as South Italy, or America. Not to mention that you can be very polite, almost Canadian." He analyzes.

"Well, I come from America, spent a lot of time in England, learned French in France from Francis and some others, and… I guess I just am polite. Sometimes." I explain roughly. "I come from everywhere, yet nowhere at all."

"Huh. Peculiar. We have a long drive back to my home, you have some explaining to do."

"As do you. Didn't you come here with Japan and America? Where are they going?"

"They're getting a ride with Matthew."

"Matthew?"

"Canada." It clicks in my mind.

"Oh, alright. That makes sense." I nod, sliding into the car.

"Let's go. This car has an auxiliary plug in, right?"


	68. Sixty-One

We just left Hungary, and the car is silent and a little awkward.

"So… I like your car. It's old, yet classy." I compliment, scoping the cars details. It was a Rolls Royce, shiny grey and black on the outside, the inside made of leather seats and polished dark wood.

"Thank you, it's one of my favorite cars that I own." Arthur replies.

"You own more than one car?" I ask. He nods.

"Most of us do. One from every decade, and such." He explains.

"Huh… Oh." I murmur. "Okay, what country do you exactly represent?"

"What do you mean?" He glances at me before looking back at the road.

"Well, I've heard people call you England, Britain, U.K., and Arthur. England and the U.K. are different countries, and Britain is England Northern Ireland, U.K., and Wales combined. So, which are you?"

"Although I have younger brothers, who are Wales and Ireland, I represent all of Great Britain. Mostly just England and the United Kingdom, but at World Meetings, Wales and Ireland are both too young to attend. I have to take their place, and I report information to them when I return."

"How exactly do World Meetings work out?" I ask. "I haven't been to one yet."

"Well, we have one every six months. One in January, one in July. It's rather simple, really. Have you ever heard of the Parliaments Procedure?"

"Ah… Not really…" I impishly reply. He raises his large eyebrows.

"Really? What about… Roberts Rules?"

"Okay, I sort of know those. Like, 'I call this meeting to order', and 'I motion that we debate this topic', and stuff?" I ask.

"Yes! Exactly that!"

"Well, I know those decently enough. I was in Elementary debate as a child. It was one of the only clubs that would run late enough so I wouldn't have to be home alone when mother got home from work." I smile lightly. The car is quiet for a few moments.

"Here, let's see what is on the radio." Arthur suggests, and I nod in agreement. He fingers a few of the buttons, grazing over the dials and the disk eject button. I curiously open the glove box, and come face-to-face with a large book-like folder. It's black leather, and has a zipper around it. I slowly pull it out, and while Arthur is busy with the radio, I open it up.

_CD's. Lots and lots of CD's_. Some of the first ones are bands I easily recognize.

"_The Beatles? Rolling Stones? The Clash? Radiohead? The Who?"_ I whisper in astonishment. He glances up at me, blushing a little.

"Yeah… Sorry, I've ah…" He tries to come up with an excuse, suspecting I find this collection to be a negative thing. "Been meaning to get rid of those."

"What!?" I nearly shout. "Why? These are some of the best bands in the world! Why get rid of them?!"

"You… Like them?"

"Where the hell have you been living? Of course I like them! Almost everyone in the world likes these bands, which is nothing to be surprised about! British bands – especially old rock British bands – are frankly spectacular!" One corner of his mouth quirks up, unbelieving.

"Really." He mutters. I nod furiously.

"Especially me! One of the main things I collected over my years of travelling was music! I have plenty on my iPod, especially your music!" A blush gathers on his cheeks.

"Oh… I'm flattered…" He says. I crack a grin.

"Now… Let's see what we have here…" I slide out a Beatles greatest hits disk, and poke it into the player, which gladly sucks it up into the system. The first song, one of the first Beatles hits, the one to get them into the music system.

_'Love Me Do'._ I sing along, while Arthur mildly hums the notes. When the chorus comes on, I'm nearly belting all the lyrics. Arthur happily joins in. We are both laughing and enjoying the music. When that CD is over, I pop a Rolling Stones CD into the radio.

_'Come On'_, blares through the speakers, and I grin, immediately catching onto the words. England sings along too, but looks at me, as the truth of the lyrics drip from my mouth.

"You really care about Matthew, yes?" He asks simply. I blank.

"Well… Of course. I _love_ him…" I click my tongue absentmindedly. "But… We both sort of concluded that we should wait. I still need to get things figured out, and he wants to 'grow a pair' as the saying goes. I'm guessing in a few years or so?" I chuckle awkwardly.

"Oh, I understand."

"I feel like sort of a dick though… Right after we broke up I was kidnapped by Lithuania and Estonia and taken to Russia. I sort of fell in love with him too…" I blush, and wrinkle my nose bringing my hands up to slap my face. "God, I feel like a whore…"

"You aren't a whore, Thalassa." Arthur states. I scoff.

"Haha, good one. How do you know?" I reply.

"Well, you just don't seem the type to me." He notes.

"_How do you know?_" I repeat, leaning closer to him. "I could just be manipulating you right now, and leading you to the fiery, pitiful, sexual depth of my crotch." I cackle at his facial expression.

"Ahem…" He blushes deeply. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I don't think you'd exactly be able to pull that off correctly. You don't really seem to be the sharpest knife in the shed." I purse my lips irritatingly.

"Oh really? I think I'm decently smart enough. I could pull it off. Besides, I've already had a fling with nearly all of the major countries." I deny.

"Hah!" He barks. "With whom?"

"Well, mainly Matthew and Ivan, but I have kissed Francis, Alfred, and Ludwig." I grumble. He starts laughing. "What!? I'm being honest!"

"That's plentiful, especially with the fact that you're a decently new country. Most of us have been with each other." I widen my eyes.

"No. Fuckin'. Way. Like, _all _of you?"

"Well, yes. Major wars between two countries? The loser is whoever fell in love with the other first. That's why Italy looses a lot of wars, and why Russia wins a lot of them." I gape at him.

"No. Way. No, you're just fuckin' with me. I know it, you're totally just screwing with me." I nod slowly, believing myself. "Yeah. The Hundred Years war between you and France? You guys couldn't of…"

"Oh, heavens' sakes no! He would try and seduce me, I would beat him up. I would try, and he would kick me in. We're both equally matched, so to say."

"What about that one war between France and Germany? Or the one between America and Russia? Or you and America?"

"Well… Ah…" England stutters. "Germany won, although with France it wasn't really surprising. The Cold War was more of a bet between Russia and America on who could be the better country. The loser would have to give their body to the winner, and when the Soviet Union broke up, America came out victorious. He didn't do anything with Russia though, claiming he was a _'hero who didn't want to do that to someone.'_ Russia still claims that someone did do it, who resembled America a lot. Unsolved case, as you would say. And America and I… It was more of becoming exes than anything. We never did anything like that, and probably never will." He explains. I smile.

"Makes sense… Sort of…" I shiver. "Jeez, I don't want to get into a war ever now. But… does this mean that nearly everyone is bisexual, then?"

"Yes, but we have our preferences. Some of us, like Francis, like females, while others, like Italy or Switzerland, like males more."

"Which do you like more?" I ask, curious. He blushes a furious scarlet.

"I- Uh… Girls, of course." He stumbles. I snicker.

"What is it? Are those ridiculous boy bands getting to you?" I giggle.

"Of course not! I was just surprised by your question!" He denies. "And besides… _One Direction_ was a decent enough band…"

"…Okay, you got me there. Some of their songs, we decent. Not something I would like to listen to on a daily basis, heaven forbid; but… Good guitar riffs." I slightly agree. "Jeez, it's been a while since I've heard about those few hit wonders…"

"Yeah, especially after Harry died…" Arthur says, smiling lightly. "Honestly, sort of relieved that they are gone."

"Yeah, they sort of ruined pop music from the two thousands…"

"Well, at least these guys will always be good, right?"

"Right!"

The ride home took sixteen hours, and we got to England's house at five in the morning. The trip only felt like a few hours.


	69. Sixty-Two

Hello! I'm sorry I haven't updated in a while, I've been out and about, and haven't really thought about updating...

Well, just one long chapter today. Je suis desole.

* * *

After reaching London, we continue driving until we're nearly out of town, down a road that is nearly invisible to people driving by on the highway. The driveway is long, full of smooth rock. We reach the house in a few minutes after leaving London.

The house is absolutely beautiful. It's definitely an old home, made of stone and wood, with a large yard, and a big forest out back. The front is mostly stone on the stairs up to the front porch, the outer walls are light wood with dark wood around the big, old windows, and on the edges of the roof and doors. It's a two story home, and the roof is shingled, not made of metal like most roofs are these days.

"So pretty…" I whisper, both exhilarated and sleepy. "I like your home…"

"Why thank you. It's called a 'hall house'. Very old, very unknown. Most of the people who have had these types of houses have either remodeled or torn down the house completely to build something more modern." Arthur explains. I gasp, shocked.

"They just… _Tear down_ such pretty houses…?" I pout. "That's… That's _terrible!_ These homes are so beautiful, like cottages or something!"

"Tell me about it." He chuckles. I grab my large bag out of the trunk, slamming it with light, weary force, before following England into the house. I follow his example and slip my shoes off, revealing my pale feet, still designed with the polish from just a few days ago. I smile weakly, and lug my bag around, locating my host quickly.

"Here is the television room…" He designates, and I nod bleakly, teetering around behind him in a dreamlike state. He walks with precision, although I know he's as tired as I am. "Kitchen, study, my room, and… your room, for now, anyways." He opens the door, and I peek in.

"Whoa…" I whisper. The bed is huge, inviting me in. I grin, internally rejoicing at the beautiful sight of a sleeping area. I didn't want England to feel alone when he was driving, so I stayed awake the entire time, talking to him. It was nearly four in the morning, and I was pooped. I give Arthur a sloppy hug, muttering _'thanks'_ and _'goodnight'_, before trudging into the room, shutting the door, and flopping onto the bed, not even bothering to take off my clothes or get under the covers.

I am asleep in milliseconds.

When I awake, I groan, rubbing my face. Light is burning my eyes through my lids, and I sigh groggily. I lay with my eyes closed.

_ Where am I? I remember leaving Hungary's house with England, and coming to his home. Nice home… I must be in one of his guest rooms._ I peek an eye open, admiring the room. The walls are a nearly white shade of blue, with a dark wood floor, and dark wood furniture. There's a large window, and with more staring, I come to the conclusion that it's a balcony. Despite the fact that there is a dresser and a bedside table, and a closet, the room is rather empty looking. No pictures or posters. No rugs. No extra knick-knacks on the tops of the furniture. It looks dank, unlived in. I sigh again, finally deciding to rise from the very soft bed, turning so I'm just sitting of the edge of it, staring at my feet. I lumber off of the bed, choosing to explore, maybe find Arthur. Although he was pointing out the different rooms, I wasn't paying any attention to what he was saying, besides what has been designated as my room. I halt my movement towards the door.

_But first, I need to unpack._

I fold all of my clothes neatly, placing them in drawers designated for certain articles of clothing. I come across Russia's underwear, halting slightly. I hold them up, staring at them sadly.

"Stupid Ivan." I spit out. "That idiot fucker, I should kill him. I can't believe he thought he could… _Do that_…" I begin shivering, twitching lightly. I crumple up the worn, old, shitty undergarments and throw them into the open closet door. I finish quickly, leaving the room without much of a glance behind me. I realize I don't know where I'm going. I look outside, finding the sun is up. It's past ten, at least. _Would Arthur be awake by now? Surely…_

"England?" I call, with no response. "Arthur?" I enter the kitchen. The floor is made of light brown tiles, with matching cabinets and white appliances. It's very neat and orderly. On the counter is a white slip of paper. I snatch it up, reading it quickly.

_ 'Thalassa,_

_ Don't worry, I just went to work. You can use the TV, and the computer in the study, but be sure to clean up any messes you make. I'll be back at seven, most likely. There are one hundred pounds under this note. If you have any problems, call me from the house phone to my cell at 020-6438-9257._

_ Arthur'_

"Well, damn." I sigh, looking at the cabinets. _He must have some cereal or something. I'm starving. _I open each cabinet, one by one.

Dishes. Empty. Empty. Alcohol. Empty. A large bag of salt.

"What the hell does he live on? Beer and salt?" I mutter, slamming each door. "I'm going to go grocery shopping for him, then. He needs to eat something…"

I take a quick shower, noticing that I don't have any shampoo or conditioner. Or any bathing necessities, besides a towel. I add those things to the list. After dressing in a pair of jeans and a white sweater, I tie my wet hair into a knot on the top of my head, not having a hair dryer either. Hopefully my money comes soon, I know that I need groceries and cleaning products. I write a quick list on a slip of paper, before logging onto the computer. The study was relatively easy to find. For once, it was a room that looked sort of lived in. The other rooms were empty both physically and emotionally. There were liquid rings on paper in here, and the computer looked well used, although it was a relatively new brand of a laptop. After looking at the date (November third), I go to maps, find my location, and look for the closest grocery store.

"Perfect, nine minutes away. A_ Waitrose_, I haven't been to one of those in a while…" I mumble, shutting down the computer and heading out to the garage that I expected to be there. I find a light, and switch it on.

Nearly seven cars. I gasp in wonder, staring at all the beautiful cars. There's a _Jaguar_, a _Land Rover…_ And one car that catches my eyes immediately.

A bright red _Mini Cooper_. Convertible. Two door. It's love at first sight. The door is locked, and after searching for a minute or two, I locate the keys on a key holder, and unlock the doors quickly. The inside seats are leather and everything is bright and shiny, although this model was made nearly ten years ago. _I haven't driven in such a long time, it was so troublesome to learn and get a license, especially with the fact that I was a runaway. Hopefully I won't get pulled over or something._ I start the car, grinning as the baby puttered and growled. _The gas tank is full, and I grabbed the list and the money… I should be good to go!_ I open the garage and pull out easily, closing the electric door behind me. I drive down the driveway, take a left on the road, and after a few more lefts and a right, I'm exiting the car, determined to get some good groceries.

I end up leaving with two bags of salad, lots of bacon and chicken, a box of fish sticks, rice, some apples, some popcorn, grape juice, assorted teas and coffee, sugary cereals, bread, milk, creamer, soups and creams, junk food, and some peanut butter and jam. The total came out to about seventy or eighty pounds, and I happily hand the cashier the note, receiving my change with politeness. As soon as I was there, I was gone.

I unpack all of the chow, and place it where needed. I almost immediately afterwards make a bowl of cereal, and sit in front of the television, switching it on. Cartoons, mindless news, and a workout program are what I skip through until I find something interesting. _Some sort of political argument. I need to work on my political stuff._

They're still going at it when I decide to scan through Arthurs' assortment of DVD's. I pause on one certain movie, from fifteen years ago.

_28 Days Later. I had heard about this one; never seen it, but… Zombies. It looks good._ I pop it into the player.

I'm slightly dozing off when Arthur arrives back home. I snap up and watch him as he loosens his tie considerably. He's in a suit. _He looks nice._

"Thalassa?" He calls.

"Living room." I respond, rising up and walking into the hallway.

"Hello, Tally. Did you have a good day?" I smile and nod at his formalities.

"Yeah, it was pretty good." He holds up a small food bag.

"I brought back some dinner." I raise an eyebrow.

"You eat fast-food?"

"Yeah, Alfred got me hooked, especially with my dreadful cooking skills." He grimaces awkwardly.

"Don't worry about it! I can make something!" I exclaim, rushing to the kitchen.

"Make something?" Arthur repeats, entering the kitchen after me.

"Yeah, I went shopping! I bought some groceries, and some stuff I needed." I inform, and he blinks a few times.

"Oh, alright. I apologize, I didn't have any food here…" He mumbles. I giggle.

"It's fine, I wanted to get out of the house." He looks at the food in his hand. "Here," I suggest. "Put that in the fridge, we can eat it tomorrow or something. I really want to make dinner!"

"I should do the cooking. It's my house. You're my guest." He denies.

"Even with your 'dreadful cooking skills'?" I laugh. His cheeks flame.

"Well, I ought to try!" He concludes. I half-smile at his antics.

"Here; you can help me. Go get changed into something more presentable. I don't want your suit dirty." I order. He starts to protest, but I send a glare that causes him to grumble and head off. "Now, what to make, what to make…" I open the newly stocked freezer, and pull out chicken breasts. I grab some cream of chicken, and some rice. I have everything set out when England returns, dressed in a pair of jeans and a red shirt. I quickly turn away before I'm caught checking him out. _He looks nice. He must always look nice… I should stop looking at him. I don't need any more romance._

"What are we making?" He asks. I grin.

"Chicken and rice. I need you to cut the chicken into squares. That's not too hard, right?" I question, and he shakes his head.

"I can do that."

"Don't cut yourself." I tease, handing him the plastic container with the boneless chicken inside. He pulls out a knife from the block, and slices into strips. I turn away, and begin focusing on the rice. I pour three cups of rice into the measuring bowl, and set up the pan to begin heating.

"Done." Arthur informs. I check his work; A little sloppy, but good.

"Good job. You did good." I praise, winking. I pick up the cutting board and the knife, sliding the meat into the sizzling pan with expertise. "You might want to go wash your hands, and I'll get you started on the broccoli." He turns towards the sink, and I use the spatula I had obtained to turn the chunks of chicken over. I begin humming a small song.

"_I do what I like, just what I like, and how I love it…_" I murmur. "_I'm right here to stay, when I'm old and gray, I'll be right in my prime! Living in the sunlight, loving in the moonlight, having a wonderful time…_" I smile weakly. _I'll never get old and gray… I'll never change…_

"How long do you think it will take until I look as old as you?" I ask, glancing at Arthur.

"W-what!? Are you saying I'm old!?" He shouts. I snicker.

"Not old, just… Matured. Older than me." I rephrase. "Although you are old." I snort. He scoffs.

"I'm not that old!"

"Is that a gray hair?" I joke.

"Shut up!"

"Here, I got the broccoli." I hand it to him, and he huffs, snatching the bag away.

"I can make broccoli." He informs. I raise an eyebrow, glancing at his flushed face and small pout.

"Are you sure?"

"Of _course_ I'm sure!"

"…I haven't had fun teasing someone in a while. It's refreshing…" I mumble, and we're quiet for a few moments. "How was work?"

"Eh, decent. It is work, nothing big or expecting came from it." He explains. I nod, pouring the rice, some water, and the can of cream chicken into the pan of chicken.

"Thank God I bought spices. You didn't have any!" I laugh, pulling out some salt, pepper, and crushed red peppers. I throw some of each into the mix, and set the pan lid on to let the food cook. "Now, let's see how far you've gotten…" I peek into his pot, and stifle a few barks of laughter. "W-where's the water?"

"Water?" I can't hold it in anymore. A burst of giggles erupt from my mouth.

"Y-yes… To properly cook broccoli, you need water, and you need to steam them…"

"Oh, fiddlesticks!" I snort at his replacement for a cuss word.

"At least you didn't turn on the oven…"

"Hey! I tried!" I smile at him, pulling the pan off of the stove and tipping the broccoli into a drainer, running water into the first pan.

"Turn on the top, will you?" I call, and I hear the clicking, followed by a sizzle.

"_Shit!_" Arthur curses. I turn to see him cradling his hand. I smile at the hopeless man, finishing setting up the broccoli before setting it on the newly turned on burner.

"What happened?" I ask.

"While one hand went to turn on the burner, the other was on the burner. My burners heat up ridiculously fast…" I tut him, snatching the hurt hand. The palm is red. "First degree. Nothing serious. Do you have bandages and Neosporin?" I ask. He nods.

"Bathroom. Across the way from the study." I lead him there, opening the drawer and pulling out the needed things.

"First. Rinse off the burn with cold water." I turn on the faucet, and hold his hand under the water. He winces. "Oh, stop. It's nothing big. Second, boo-boo kiss."

"What-" He starts to ask when I answer by planting a kiss on the open palm of his hand. I poke the wound with my tongue. "What the hell?" He asks, cheeks flaming once again.

"Saliva actually holds healing properties; especially to burns. Although urine is better, but… That's urine. Gross." I giggle. "Next, Neosporin." I squeeze some out of the tube, rubbing it on the palm.

"Hey, that tickles!" He struggles. I twitter with annoyance.

"Stop squirming, Arthur. We're almost done." I fuss. "Last, wrap the burned area. Preferably with bandage, which we have." I begin spinning the roll of gauze around his palm. "Let me know if it's too tight." I notify.

"How did you get so good at this? Were you a nurse or something?" I look up at him, his curious green eyes connecting with my haunted ones.

"Let's just say that I had to deal with a lot of burns as a kid." I mutter quietly. He parts his lips as if to say something, but I finish wrapping him, and I pat the hand quickly, brushing past him. "The foods probably done."

We sit in silence, eating quietly.

"It's good." He murmurs. I nod in approval, smiling lightly.

"Yeah, I learned how to make it from my mother. I had to make dinner every few days, when she wasn't at home." I explain, and he nods.

"Well, it is wonderful. Compliments to the chef." He smiles, and I return the action.

"Thanks."

We finish mutely. I scrub the dishes easily. England joins in, and the dishes are done in a few minutes.

"Thanks for the help with the dishes." I say gratefully.

"Well, it is my house. I should help you. Hell, I should do it by myself." He grumbles. I smile.

"But then you would be working your ass off, every day." I inform. "I would feel bad about not putting in my share of chores."

"It's nothing." He denies. "I can handle it!" I smile at him.

"I'm tired… I think I'm going to go to bed…" I notify. He wearily nods.

"Same here. I haven't been this tired since…" He sighs. I hug him, and mutter a goodnight.

"Let me know if you need help with the burn, it should be gone in a few days, but then again, we probably heal faster, don't we?" He nods.

"Yeah, so it will probably be gone by tomorrow morning." I smile weakly.

"Good. I don't want you hurt." I leave to my bedroom, and change into some sweats, snuggling into the soft covers.


	70. Sixty-Three

Hello! I think I'll update one or two chapters today...

I also want to apologize to those who liked Tally/Russia (RusTal? Rally? Tussia?)

It's getting a lot of love on Wattpad, and I'm not nearly as far on there as I am here and oh it's gonna hurt when I drop the bomb on them... TuT

Anywho, here's the chapter!

* * *

_I feel it the moment I wake up._

The muscles in my arms are quivering. _I need something, anything. _I fly out of bed, and exit my room, bolting down the stairs. Arthur is there, eating an obviously burnt pastry of some sort. He peeks up at me from his newspaper, widening his eyes when he sees how badly I'm shaking.

"Help it's happening I can't hold myself straight I need one I need one _now…_" I mumble loudly, worriedly. He stands quickly, rushing over to me.

"What do you need? _What?_" He asks, holding onto my shoulders.

"I need one I need it I need one _now_ If I don't have one my body'll break down I need one I need to play I need to without a play I might go _insane…_" I whisper. _I haven't had a breakdown since I lost my memory. Such an unwelcoming feeling. _I tense, going silent from my mumblings. One small whisper echoes out of me.

"_Don't hit me_." I stare straight ahead, over Arthurs head.

"Hit you? Dear, what _are_ you going on about?"

"I'm sorry I haven't practiced I'll practice right now I'm sorry I haven't played I'm sorry mother I'm… I'm-" Tears are leaking out of my eyes. "I need a piano hurry before she finds me and hurts me it hurts so bad but I deserve it 'cause I'm a bad kid…"

"You're not bad. Tally. Are you listening to me?"

"I'm such a bad kid I'm sorry mom I didn't mean to forget to practice there was so much homework and _that's no excuse_-"

"I don't have a piano, Tally…"

"No… Piano… I need something anything to show that I'm a good girl anything musical anything… _Anything…_" I huddle onto the ground, eyes unblinking as I slowly pull my knees up._ I'm so embarrassed but I need a piano or something now or else she will hit me and I won't get dinner and mommy will hurt herself again…_

"She'll hurt herself, because I'm bad…" I sob. "I'm such a bad, bad child! I need to be _punished!_" I didn't even notice that the man had left until he returned with a-

"Black and red Fender electric Jagmaster first made in Japan in 1996 but grew very popular and are now in various assortments of colors…" I whisper. "Although this must be handmade because they never made a black and red colored one they always had white accents excellent condition but there must be an amp because without an amp the music can't become the music can't drown it out I need an amp."

"Here, I brought one." The unidentified man notes, his bright green eyes numb underneath his caterpillars of eyebrows.

"Thanks." Is all I say before plugging in the guitar emotionlessly and beginning my sick, twisted drug fix.

The solo starts high, single toned. I push myself again a wall, arching my wrists in a way that only an expert guitarist would have mastered. I begin moving lower on the neck, playing different notes in a fast, frenzied pace that could only be described as the work of an angelic demon, or a demonic angel, depending on the notes and the opinion of the listener. I begin playing multiples of tunes, all at the same time. I close my eyes tightly, and begin slightly strumming. The strumming picks up speed, and I begin slightly voicing a song from my childhood, although the strumming is much too fast for the original song. I can easily rap to the quick notes.

"_Are you aware of what you make me feel,_ _baby?_" I spit out the last word harshly, venom of past experiences haunting me, making me feel my eyes darken. "_Right now I feel invisible to you, like I'm not real. Didn't you feel me lock my arms around you, why'd you turn away? Here's what I have to say, I was left to cry there, waiting outside there, grinning with a lost stare, that's when I decided…_" I feel my eyes close as I reach the chorus of the song that was mentally droned into me. I'm singing it so much faster than normal, it's a little tongue twisting, but nothing I'm not used to.

"_Why should I care? 'Cause you weren't there when I was scared, I was so alone. You, you need to listen! I'm starting to trip, I'm losing my grip, and I'm in this thing alone…_" I whisper. I feel the light plucking transform into something slower, something lighter, yet dark in the same way. _I change songs._

"_She's not a girl that misses much… She's well acquainted with the touch of a velvet hand, like a lizard on a windowpane. The man in the crowd with the multicolored mirrors on his hobnail boots… Lying with his eyes while his hands are busy working overtime… A soap impression of his wife which he ate and donated to the natural trust._" I sing hoarsely, entering the small guitar solo. "_I need a fix 'cause I'm going down, down to the bits that I left uptown… I need a fix 'cause I'm going down. Mother superior jumped the gun… Mother superior jumped the gun…_" I laugh mutely, going through a mind filter that I've had since I was a child.

"_Happiness is a warm gun… Bang bang, shoot shoot…_" I feel my fingers go tense, and cry out at the sudden Charlie horse_. Of course. I'm so out of practice that I'm surprised it didn't happen sooner. Although my body has molded to quick, daunt notes and excellent fingering, I haven't played like this in nearly ten years._

"_Welcome back…_" I whisper to myself, partly to my sensible mind, which returned with the finger cramps, partly to the haunting drug I need at least once a week. _If I forget to play the piano or any musical instrument for a week or more, my mental capacity greatly decreases, causing my mind to go back to the way it was as a child: Cold, weak, scared._

"Thalassa? Are you alright?" The man, now recognized as Arthur, hunches down next to me. I slowly look up to him.

"I'm sorry… I'm so sorry." I meekly apologize. He shakes his head.

"Don't worry. It's okay. You're fine." He hushes, running a hand through my unwashed hair. The tears start anew.

"I have to worry… If I don't, I go crazy… It's not okay, it's not natural… I'm never fine…" I shiver, sobs wracking my frail body_. I feel so weak, even though only a month or two ago I was a strong, noble nation that could take anyone. Now… I'm just a little kid, all over again._ Arthur envelops me into a warm hug, and I bury my head into the crook of his neck.

"Shh… You're going to be okay… It's alright…" He whispers into my hair. I blush, tears flowing out all over Arthur's shirt. It takes a few moments, but I finally drain myself of tears, and I sniffle, still clinging onto England's embrace.

"I'm sorry… Your shirt is soaked…" I sniff again. I chuckles weakly.

"It's alright, dear. I didn't like this shirt anyways."

"Oh…"

"Here's the plan. I'll call in sick. We'll go shopping, pick you out some… Instruments."

"B-but…"

"If the money is that big of a problem for you, I will let you pay me back when your money comes, okay?" He huffs, pulling me up. "Now go get dressed. You need to look presentable." I nod slowly teetering off to my room, before standing in the shower for thirty minutes_. At least I have shampoo and conditioner now. _It's comfortable and warm, and I feel better, more normal already. I dress in a pair of light blue jeans and a green plaid button-down. My hair air dries into wavy curls, like a mermaid or something. I don't wear any makeup.

"Tally?" I hear outside my door.

"Done." I reply breathlessly, opening the door to a rather nice looking Arthur. He wears a white button-down, with plaid slacks. I raise an eyebrow. "Schoolboy?"

"S-shut up. I like them." He mutters, crossing his arms. I glance at his loafers and scan back up to his face.

"I like them too. They suit you, better than the suit, anyways." I giggle, walking past him. "C'mon! Let's go!"

"Alright… Which car did you take?" He asks.

"The Cooper. I loved it at first sight."

"We'll take it then." I squeal and jump into the passenger seat quickly. Arthur slowly eases himself into it, more poised and proper about it than I was. _Like… A gentleman, of sorts. He is a gentleman, now that I think about it. He's proper and polite, mostly, and he takes care of himself and others._ I smile. _He takes care of me._

"Here we go." He starts the car, and we head out.


	71. Sixty-Four

The ride to the music store is relatively quick. The outside is very modern, slanted roof and one large glass wall. It is in the middle of London, so it seems like an obvious reason for the futuristic look. A bell dings when I push through the door, England hot on my heels.

"What's the price budget?" I whisper to him, not wanting to attract too much attention yet.

"Ah… Three thousand pounds?"

"Perfect, alright." I glance around the store, assessing my choices. A large sign hangs overhead, pointing out directions to certain places. String instruments are to the left, brass to the right, and drums are ahead with pianos. I start moving forward, but sort of falter. _Do I want to get a piano, or a guitar? I can always borrow England's guitar… _I continue moving ahead.

"Hey, you have a guitar… Can you play?" I ask Arthur.

"Yes, not as good as Alfred can though, but better than most." I brighten.

"We should play together sometime!" I gush happily.

"M-me? Are you sure?" He stutters, smiling lightly. I nod eagerly.

"Yeah! It would be fun!" I turn my attention to the sight ahead of me, glancing around at all of the large instruments. All different shapes and sizes, set up for model and sale. Walking down an aisle, my eyes catch on an upright piano, made of white wood. I slowly edge towards it, plucking one key. _No. It doesn't feel right. _I continue forward.

"What type of piano are you looking for?" Arthur asks, keeping up with me.

"Hum… Something practical, yet perfectly capable of keeping up with me."

"Keeping up?" He questions dubiously.

"Yeah, sometimes if I move too fast on incorrect pianos the keys don't play exactly right and they sort of have a lag to them… Usually a grand can work-" I halt, staring ahead.

It's a grand piano, unpainted and sanded down. It's a petite, the smallest type of grand, only four feet big. A small gasp releases from my mouth, and I gradually move closer to the beautiful instrument. I pluck a G. _Perfect…_

"This is it…" I whisper, eyes widening. "This one!"

"But it's unpainted…"

"Well then I'll paint it! I love this one. It's… beautiful."

"How could it possibly be beautiful? It's just a pale brown, nothing stands out…"

"_Everything_ stands out!" I cry, looking at him. "Everything… This has been worn down, that's why they were most likely going to repaint it. It's going to be given a new face, a new identity… It won't be the same piano it was, and yet, it will always be that piano. You see?" I gesture towards the pale white keys, running a finger over the small nick of a chipped key. "This thing probably had to go through a lot… Young children, maybe a crazy dog? Besides, it doesn't matter what it looks like on the outside; it plays perfect, even with all its been through… It's magical almost. It's a wonderful sight, can you believe it? Although this thing has definitely had to be repaired a couple of times, it's still going strong."

"Can I help you?" A bright voice interjects. I turn to see a sales clerk, happy and willing to assort our problems.

"I would like to buy this piano!" I say determinedly. She blinks a few times.

"A-are you sure? We have plenty of newer, more interesting models, especially for a person of your expertise…"

"Expertise?"

"Yes, I can tell by your finger shape, and the calluses around your tips. You've played since you were a kid, yes? Although they're nearly gone by now, you haven't played in a while…" She assesses. I grin and nod.

"Yeah, since I was a little girl! But I really like this piano, it… I can't really describe it, but… it's for me. I can feel it."

"Well… Alright! We'll set you up. Because this is a rather old model, yet not old enough to be classical or vintage, it will be fairly cheap. Especially since it's unpainted… But it's still in perfect working order!" She explains. "It came from a home over by Baskerville- An old woman recently passed away, with no family or friends to pass anything on to. This old baby showed up only a few days ago, we were sure it was going to be trashed… But you found it, so that's good! I really hate it when we have to burn pianos that no one wants… I can't play, but… _You_ understand, right?"

"Of course! No instruments should _ever_ have to go through such stress of that sort! Oh, ah… Misses… Uh…"

"Molly, dear."

"Oh, Miss Molly, do you think you could just rack this up? I think I might want to look around some more." I say, glancing at Arthur. He looks sort of bored, but he's too polite to interject.

"Oh, of course! I'll get this onto your list! To let you know, this only adds up to about one thousand five hundred." I smile and thank the kind woman, before taking Arthurs hand and pulling him along into the drum area.

"What are you-"

"There's one!" I cry out victoriously, storming forward down an aisle. I slow, glancing at all the different choices. He gives me a sideways glance.

"… A launchpad?" He asks. I nod.

"They've always been something of interest to me… Since dubstep came out when I was a kid, I've always been fascinated with electronic music and synthesizers. My mother would kill me if I ever would have asked for a keyboard or one of… These…" I explain quietly, reaching out to grasp one of the small pads. This one is only seventy pounds. I turn towards him. "…Can I get it?" I ask hopefully, like a small dog. _I would have never resulted into such an unreasonable fashion. I just sort of knew that doing that would make him get me it._

"…Oh, alright. But, what else might you need for it?"

"Probably some decent DJ headphones… And a charger, but it comes with one." I grin, hugging the slightly taller Englishman. He stutters a little. "Thank you!" I shout happily.

"A-ah… You're welcome…" He mumbles, his cheeks tinting slightly. I beam, picking out the perfect one. It's a slightly wider version than the original one, created in 2012, nearly a decade ago. This one is rectangular, the size of a long computer keyboard, with different dials and tune settings. It comes with a USB wire and a wall charging box, and a small carrying case, for on the go. It has speakers inside it, but I know I didn't want to be a bother if I wanted to play with it at night when Arthur was trying to sleep. _Poor man,_ I think to myself. _He has to deal with someone like me._

"Let's go find some headphones!" I exclaim, riding off towards another aisle that I notice with plenty of different sets of earphones. I pick out a pair of bright red ones, shiny and completely sound-proof, meaning that others around me not listening to the sounds couldn't hear them through the thick padding. I rush back to England, who is slowly turning the corner, a slightly amused smirk crossing his face as I excitedly jump around him, thrilled to get something new.

"Are you ready to check out?" He asks. I nod.

"C'mon, let's go!" I cry out jubilantly, grabbing his hand once again to pull him towards the checkout. Miss Molly is standing there, waiting for us.

"Over here, Dearie!" She calls, and I wave, dragging Arthur towards the stall.

"Ouch, Tally… You really are related to Alfred…" He winces, and I halt, turning towards him worriedly.

"I'm so sorry! Does it hurt? Oh, that must be the burnt hand, isn't it? Oh no, it's not done healing or something? I probably just ripped open the scabs and-"

"Shut up, twit. I'm fine." He growls in a snarky tone. I smile hopelessly at the man.

"Sorry… I tend to… Overreact…" I mumble, scratching my head. He shakes his.

"It's alright, I shouldn't have complained that badly. It wasn't that bad…" He scoffs, and I shake my head.

"No, I'm the one at fault-"

"Just go to the bloody cashier already, idiot." He orders. I blink and nod, turning back towards Molly and handing her the launchpad and the headphones when I reach her. I apologize to her as well.

"Oh, it's okay, dear. I'm in no rush." She laughs happily, racking up everything. "Along with the piano… Everything comes to the total of one thousand, seven hundred and forty-two." Arthur moves forward, handing the woman a couple notes.

"That should cover everything." He concludes, and I turn to look at him curiously. He's smiling, but unlike its usual polite stature, it's a real deal grin. _He must really like visiting and talking to his people,_ I realize. _I want to talk to some of my own people, although they're not really 'mine'. But it's the thought that counts._

"Oh, I hope you do know you're a lucky girl, dear." Molly gushes. "If I had a boyfriend who would go and buy me all these nice things, why, I'd be the happiest lady in the world!" Arthur and I both blush furiously at the statement.

"W-we aren't dating, Miss Molly, but thanks for the thought. I hope you do get a boyfriend who would do that for you!" I laugh, and she grimaces.

"Sorry Dear. It just seemed really obvious, but now that I think about it, you two must be cousins or something right? Heh, I do have a boyfriend," She replies, "But he's a bit of a good-for-nothing snob." I chuckle.

"Oh, tell me about it! Guys these days, am I right?" I grin. "Thankfully there are some of them who are true gentlemen, not just conniving twerps." At gentlemen, I glance towards Arthur. He blushes deeper. Molly doesn't notice the change in his expression.

"Now, Dearie, the piano will come to your home in about two or three days. Might I have your address?" I turn confusedly towards Arthur, who chuckles.

"_1408, North Woodberry Road._"

"Okay, thanks! I hope to see you two around again!" She exclaims, and I wave goodbye to the nice woman, bag of goodies in my hand.


End file.
